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THE SHIELD 


17 TO 27 VaNDEWATER 5T 

' -J^EV/YO^K;- 




The Seaside Library, Pocket Edition, Issued Tn^veekl; 
pyrlghted is85 by George Mimro— Entered at the Post Omce at 


^subscription 836 per annum, 
ork at second class rates— Sept. 29, IK 









New York Fireside Companion. 


a Paper for tie Home Circle. . .i j 


PURE, BRIGHT AND INTERESTING. 


■ ; THE FIRESIDE (X)MPANION numbers among its contributors the best of 
living fiction writers. 


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cialties are features peculiar to this journal. 


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Registered Letters or by Post-oflBce Money Orders. Postage free. Specimen 
copies sent free. 


GEORGE MUNRO, Publisher, 


P. 0. Boz 3751 


17 to 27 VandLewater Street, New York. 


Two Sides of the Shield. 


/ 

BY / 

CHARLOTTE M. YONGE. 





I 


OCT 20 It£5 

W A .E r, 1 E 


NEW YORK; 

GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER, 

17 TO 27 Vandewater Street. 


o 


/TO 









0II4inv01''i’E M. YONOE’S WORKS 

CONTAINED IN THE SEASIDE LIBRARY (ROCKET EDITION) : 


NO. ' PRICE- 

247 The Armourer’s PrenI ices . . . . , 10 

275 The Three Brides . . . . . . . .10 

535 Henrietta’s Wish ....... 10 

563 Tlie Two Sides of the Shield . . , . . 20 




PREFACE. 


It is sometimes treated as an impertinence to revive the 
personages of one story in another, even though it is after 
the example of Shakespeare, who revived Falstaff after 
his death, at the behest of Queen Elizabeth. This prec- 
edent is, however, a true impertinence in calling on the 
very great to justify the very small! 

Yet many a letter in youthful handwriting has begged 
for further information on the fate of the beings that had 
become favorites of the school-room; and this has induced 
me to believe that the following out of my own notions as 
to the careers of former heroes and heroines might not be 
unwelcome; while I have tried to make the story stand 
independently for new readers, unacquainted with the tale 
in which Lady Merrifield and her brothers and sisters 
first appeared. 

^‘Scenes and Characters’’ was, however, published so 
long ago, that the young readers of this generation cer- 
tainly will only know it if it has the good fortune to have 
been preserved by their mothers. It was only my second 
book, and in looking back at it so as to preserve consist- 
ency, I have been astonished at its crqdeness. 

It will explain a few illusions to state that it is the story 
of the motherless family of Mohuns of Beechcroft, with 
a kindly deaf father at the head, Mr. Mohun, whose pet 
name was the Baron of Beechcroft, owing to a romantic 
noti^'fii of his daughters made fun of by his sons. The 
eldeei sister, a stiff, sensible, dry woman, had just mar- 
ried and gone to India, leaving her post to the next in 
age> Emily, who was much too indolent for the charge. 
I^ilias, the third in age, with her head full of the kind of 
jhigh romance and sentiment more prevalent thirty or 
forty years ago than now, imagined that whereas the 
household had formerly been ruled by duty, it now might 
be so by lo\e. Of course, confusion dire was the conse- 


IV 


PKEFACE. 


qiience, chiefly with the younger boys, the scientific,, 
cross-grained Maurice, and the high-spirited, turbulent 
Reginald, all the mischief being fomented by Jane’^pert- 
ness and curiosity, and only mitigated by the honest sim- 
plicity and dutifulness of eiglit-year-old Phyllis. Tiie 
remetly was found at last in the marriage of the eldest 
son William with Alethea Weston, already Lilias’s friend 
and model. 

That in a youthful composition there should be a cavalier 
ancestry, a family much given to dying of consumption, 
and a young marquis cousin, is, perhaps, inevitable. Lord 
Rotherwood was Mr. Mohun’s ward, and having a dull 
home of his own, found his chief happiness as well as all 
the best influences of his life, in the merry, high-prin- 
cipled, though easy-going life at his uncle’s, whom he re- 
vered like a father, while his eager, somewhat scatter- 
brained nature often made him a butt to his cousins. All 
this may account for the tone of cameraderie with which 
the scattered members of the family meet again, especially 
around Lilias, who had, with her cleverness and enthu- 
siasm, always been the leading member of the group. 

It should, perhaps, also be mentioned that Lord Rother- 
wood’s greatest friend was also Lilias’s favorite brother, 
Claude, who had become a clergyman and died early. 
Aunt Adeline had been the spoilt child and beauty of the 
familv, the youngest of all. 

0. M. YONGE. 

March 8th, 1885. 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


CHAPTER I. 

WHAT AVILL BECOME OF ME. 

A London dining-room was lighted with gas, which 
showed a table of small dimensions, with a vase of some- 
what dirty and dilapidated grasses in the center, and at 
one end a soup tureen, from which a gentleman had 
helped himself and a young girl of about thirteen, with- 
out much apparent consciousness of what he was about, 
being absorbed in a pile of papers, pamphlets, and letters, 
while she on her side kept a book pinned open by a gravy 
spoon. The elderly maid-servant, who set the dishes be- 
fore them, handed the vegetables and changed the plates, 
really came as near to feeding the pair as Avas possible 
Avith people above three years old. 

The one was a dark, thin man, Avith a good deal of 
Avhite in his thick beard and scanty hair, the absence of 
which made the breadth of his forehead the more remark- 
able. The girl Avould have shoAvn an equally remarkable 
brow, but that her dark hair Avas cut square over it, so as 
to take off from its height, and give a heavy overhanging 
look to the upper part of the face, Avhich below AV'as thin 
and salloAv, Avell-featured, but Avith a want of gloAV and 
color. The thick masses of dark hair Avere plaited into a 
very long thick tail behind, hanging down over a black 
evening frock, whose white trimmings Avere, like every- 
thing else about the place, ratlier dingy. She Avas far 
less absorbed than her father, and raised a quick, Avistful 
brown eye Avhenever he made the least sound, or shuffled 
his papers. Indeed, it seemed that she Avas reading in 
order to distract her anxiety rather than for the sake of 
occupation. 

It was not till after the last pieces of cheese had been 
offered and refused, and the maid had retired, leaving 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


€ 

some dull crackers and veteran biscuits, with two de- 
<canters and a claret-jug, that he spoke: 

“Dolores!” 

“ Yes, father.” 

But he only cleared his throat, and looked at his 
letter again, while she fixed her eager eyes upon him so 
earnestTy that he let his fall again, and looked once more 
over liis letters before he spoke again. 

“Dolores,” and the tone was dry, as if all feeling were 
driven from it. 

“ Yes, father.” 

“ You know that I have accepted this appointment?” 

“Yes. father.” 

“ And that I shall be absent three years at the least?” 

“Yes.” 

Then comes the question how are you to be disposed 
of in the meantime?” 

“ Could not I go with you?” she said, under her breath. 

No, my dear.” And somehow the tone had more ten- 
derness in it, though it was so explicit. “ I shall have no 
fixed residence, no one with whom to leave you; and the 
climate is not fit for you. Your Aunt Lilias has kindly 
offered to take charge of you.” 

“Oh, father!” 

“Well?” 

“ If you would only let me stay here with Caroline and 
Praulein. I like it so much better.” 

“ That can not be, Dolly. I have this morning promised 
to let the house as it is to Mr. Smithson.” 

“ And Caroline?” 

“ If Caroline takes my advice she will remain here as 
his liousekeeper, and I think she will. Well, what is it? 
Yon do not mean that you would prefer going to your 
Aunts Jane and Ada?” 

“ Oh, no, no; only if I might go to school.” 

This is nonsense, Dolores. It will be much better 
for you on all accounts to be with your aunt at Silverfold. 
I have no fear that she and her girls will not do their best 
to make you happy and good, and to give you what you 
have sadly wanted, my poor cliild. I have always wished 
you could have seen more of her.” 

There could be no doubt from the tone, in the mind of 
axny one who knew Mr. Maurice Mohun, that the decision 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 7 

was final; but perhaps Dolores would have asked more if 
the door-bell had not rung at the moment and Mr. Smith- 
son had not been announced. Fate was closing in on her. 
She retired into her books, and remained as long as she 
possibly could, for the sake of seeing her father and heai- 
ing his voice; but after a time she was desired to call 
Caroline, and to go to bed herself, for it was a good deal 
past nine o^clock. 

She had been aware, she could hardly tell how, that her 
father had been offered a government appointment con- 
nected with the Fiji Islands, and then that, glad to escape 
from the dreariness which liad settled down on the house 
since his wife’s death, about eighteen months pi-eviousiy, 
lie had accepted it, and she liad speculated mucii on her 
])robable fate; but had never before been officially in- 
formed of liis designs for himself or for her. 

He was a barrister, who spent all his leisure time on 
scientific studies, and his wife had been equally devoted 
to the same pursuits. Dolores had been her constant 
companion; but after the mother’s death, from an acci- 
dent on a glacier,' a strange barrier of siiyness liad risen 
between the cliild and tlie father, a man naturally taci- 
turn, and with no power of throwing himself into the 
ways of a girl past the charms of infancy. It was as if 
they had lost their interpreter. 

Tiie German governess, chosen by Mrs. Mohun, was 
very German indeed, and greatly occupied in her own 
studies. When siie found that the armes-liehes Mddchen 
shrunk from being wept over and caressed on tlie mourn- 
ful return, she decided that the English had no feeling, 
and acquiesced in the routine of lessons and exiieditions to 
classes. She was never unkind, but she did not try to be 
a companion; and old Caroline was excellent in the at- 
tention she paid to the comforts of her master and his 
daughter, but had no love of children, and would not 
have encouraged familiarities, even if Dolores had not 
been too entirely a drawing-room child to offer them. 

The morning came, and everything went on as usual; 
Dolores poured out the coffee, Mr. Mohun read his “ Times,” 
Fraulein ate «‘is usual, but afterward he asked for a few 
minutes’ conversation with Fraulein. All that Dolores 
heard of the result of it was So,” and then lessons went 
on until twelve o’clock, when it was the custom that the- 


8 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

girl should have an hour’s recreation, which was, in any 
tolerable weather, spent in the gardens of the far west 
Crescent, where she lived. There she was nearly certain 
of meeting her one great friend, Maude Sefton, who was 
always sent out for her airing at the same time. 

They spied each other issuing from their doors, met, 
linked their arms, and entered together. Maude was a 
tall, rosy girl, with a great yellow bush down her back, 
half a year older than Dolores, and a great deal bigger. 

“ My dearest Doll!” 

Oh yes, it is come.” 

‘‘ Then he is really going? I heard the pater and ma- 
ter talking about it yesterday, and they said it would be 
an excellent thing for him.” 

Oh, Maude! Then they did not say anything about 
what we hoped?” 

‘‘ What, the mater’s offering for you to come and live 
with us, darling? Oh, no; and I’m afraid it is of no use to 
ask her, for she said of herself, that she knew Mr. Mo- 
hun had sisters, and — ” 

And what? Tell me, Maude. You must!” 

“ Well, then, you know you made me, and I think it is 
a shame. She said she was glad she wasn’t one of them, 
for you were such a peculiar child.” 

‘^Dear me, Maude, you needn’t mind telling me that! 
I’m sure I don’t want to be like everybody else.” 

And you are going to one of your aunts?” 

' Yes, to Aunt Lilias. Oh, Maude, he would not hear 
a word against it, and I know it will be so horrid! Aunts 
are always nasty!” 

‘‘ Kate is very fond of her aunt,” said Maude, who did 
not happen to have any personal experiences to oppose to 
this sweeping assertion. 

Oh, I don’t mean proper aunts, but aunts that have 
orphans left to them.” 

“ But you are not an orphan, darling.” 

I dare say I shall be. ’Tis a horrible climate, and 
there are no end of cannibals there, so that he would not 
take me out for anything, — and sharks, and volcanoes, 
and hurricanes.” 

“ I don’t think they eat people there now.” 

‘^It’s bad enough if they don’t! And you know those 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


9 


aunts begin pretty well, while they are in fear of tho 
father, but then they get worse.” 

‘‘Tliere was Eda Morton,” said Maude, in a tone of 
conTiction, and Anna Ross.” 

Oh yes, and another book, ‘ Rose Tnrquand.’ It was 
a grown-up book, that I read once — long ago,” said Do- 
lores, who had in her mother’s time been allowed a pretty 
free range of ‘‘ book-box.” 

‘‘ And there’s ‘ Under the Shield,’ but that was a boy.”^ 
There are lots and lots,” said Dolores. They are 
ever so much worse than the step-mothers! Not that 
there is any fear of that!” she added quickly. 

‘‘But isn’t this Aunt Lilias nice? It’s a pretty name.. 
Which IS she? You have one aunt a Lady Something,, 
haven’t you?” 

“ Yes, it is this one. Lady Merrifield. Her husband is 
a general. Sir Jasper Merrifield, and he is gone out to 
command in some place in India; but she can not stand 
tlie climate, and is living at home at a place called Silver- 
fold, with a whole lot of children. I think two ai’e gone 
out with their father, but there are a great many more.” 

“Don’t you know them at all.’” 

“ No, and don’t want to! I think my aunts were un- 
kind to mother!” 

“ Oh!” exclaimed Maude. 

“ I am sure of it. They were horrid, stuck-up, fine 
ladies, and looked down on her, though she was ever so 
much nicer, and cleverer, and more intellectual than they; 
and she looked down on them.” 

“Are you sure?” asked Maude, to whom it was as good 
as a story. 

“ Yes, indeed. She was civil, of course, because they 
were father’s sisters, but I know she couldn’t bear them. 
If any of them came to London, there was a calling, but 
all very stupid, and a dining at Lord Rotherwood’s; but 
slie never would, except once, when I can hardly remem- 
ber, go to stay at their slow places in the country. I’ve- 
heard father try to persuade her when they didn’t think 
I understood. Yon know we always went abroad, or to 
the sea or something, except last 3^ear, when we were at 
Beechcroft. That wasn’t so bad, for there were lots of 
books, and Uncle Reginald was there, and he is jolly.” 

“ Can’t you get Mr. Mohun to send you there?” 


10 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


‘‘No, I don’t think they would have me, for everybody 
there is grown up, and father seems to have a wish for 
me to be with this Aunt Lilias, because she has a school- 
room.” 

“ I wonder he should wish it, if she was unkind to 
Mrs. Mohun.” 

“ Well, slie was out of the way most of the time. They 
have lived at Malta, and Gibraltar, and Belfast, and all 
sorts of places, so tliey will all have regular garrison friv- 
olous manners, and think of nothing but officers and 
balls. I know she was a beauty, and wants to be one still.” 

Maude, whose father was a professor, looked quite ap- 
palled, and said: 

“ You will be the one to infuse better things.” She 
felt quite proud of the word. 

“ Perhaps,” returned Dolores; they always do that in 
time, but not till they’ve been awfully bullied. All the 
cousins are jealous, and the aunt spites them because they 
m’e nicer and prettier than her own.” 

“ Yes,” said Maude, “but then there’s always some tre- 
mendously nice boy-cousin, or uncle, or something, that 
makes up for it all. Will Sir Jasper Merrifield’s eldest 
son be a Sir?” 

“Oh no; he’s not a baronet, but a G. C. B., Knight 
Grand Cross of the Bath, that is. Besides, I don’t care 
for love, and titles, and all that nonsense, though my 
father is first cousin to Lord Rotherwood.” 

“ And you never saw any of them?” 

“ Yes, Aunt Lilias was at the Charing Cross Hotel 
with Uncle Jasper and the two eldest daughters, Alethea 
and Phyllis, and some more of them, just before they 
sailed; and father took me there on Sunday to lunch- 
eon; but there were so many people, and such a talk, 
and such a bustle, that I hardly knew which was 
which. Aunt Jane and Aunt Ada were there too, 
and Lord Rotherwood, and there was such a talking 
that it made my head turn round; but I saw how 
affected Aunt Lilias is, and I knew tfl?tt whenever they 
looked at me they said ‘ poor child,’ and I always hate 
any one who does that! All I was afraid of then was that 
father would let Aunt Jane and Aunt Ada come and live 
with us; but this is ever so much worse.” 

“You have such a lot of aunts and uncles!” said 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


11 


Maude, ‘‘and I liave not got anytliing but one old 
uncle.” 

‘‘Uncles are all very well,” said Dolores, sagaciously* 
“it’s the aunts. And then mother used to say the Mo- 
huns are all so narrow! I shall never get on with them.”' 

“ Let me see if 1 know them all,” said Maude. “ There 
are the two Miss Mohuns — ” 

“Oh, that’s beginning at the wrong end. Aunt Ada 
is the youngest of them all, and she thinks she is a 
young lady still, and wears little curls on her forehead,, 
and a tennis pinafore, and makes iier waist just like a 
wasp. She and Aunt Jane live together at Kockquay, be- 
cause she has bad health — at least she has whenever she 
likes; and Aunt June does all sorts of charities and wor- 
ries, and sets everybody to rights,” said Dolly, in- a very 
grown-up voice, speaking partly from her own observa- 
tion, and partly repeating what she had caught from her 
elders. 

“ Oh, yes, I know her,” said Maude. “ She asked me 
questions about all I did, and she did bother mamma so 
about a maid she recommended that we are iievei' going 
to take another from her.” 

“Aunt Phyllis comes between them, I believe; but she 
has married a sailor captain and gone to settle in New 
Zealand, and 1 have not seen her since I was a very little 
girl. Then there’s Aunt Emily, who is a very great swell 
indeed. Her husband was a canon, Lord Henry Grey; 
but he is dead, and she lives at Brighton, a regular fat, 
comfortable down-pillow of a woman, who isn’t bad to 
lunch with, only she sends one out to the Parade with 
her maid, as if one was a baby. Mother used to laugh at 
her. And I think there was an older one who went to- 
India and died long ago.” 

“ I have seen your two uncles. There’s Major Mohun. 
Oh ! he is fun!” 

“ Yes, dear old Uncle Kedgie! I wish he was not in 
Ireland. He will be so sorry to miss seeing father off, but 
he can’t get leave. . Apd there was a clergyman who is 
dead, and father grieved for him very much. I think he 
did something to make them all nicer to mother, for it was 
just after that we went to stay at Beechcroft with Uncle 
William. You know him, and how mother used to call 
him the very model of a country squire; and I like his 


12 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


wife, Aunt Aletiiea. Only it is very pokey and slow down 
there, and they are always after flannel petticoats and soup 
kitchens, and all the old fads that are exploded. I should 
get awfully tired of it before a year was out, only I should 
not be teased with strange cliildren, and there would be no 
one to be jealous of me.” 

'i-Can’t you get your father to change and send you 
there?” 

‘‘ Not a chance. You see Aunt Lilias has offered, and 
they haven’t, and I must go on with my education. I 
hope, though I shall have no advantages, I shall still be 
able to go up for the Cambridge examination, if Aunt 
Lilias has not prejudices, as. I dare say she has, since of 
course none of her own will be able to try.” 

You’ll come up to us for the examination, Dolly 
dear, and we shall do it together, and that will be 
nice!” 

If they will let me; but I don’t expect to be allowed 
to do anything that I wish. Only perhaps father may be 
come home by that time.” 

“ Is it three years?” 

Yes. It is a terrible time, isn’t it? However, when 
I’m seventeen perhaps he will talk to me, and I can really 
keep house.” 

And then you’ll come back here?” 

“ Do you know, Maudie — listen — I’ve another uncle, 
belonging to mother.” 

“ Oh, Dolly! I thought she had no one!” 

He told me he was my Uncle Alfred once when he 
met me in the park with Fraulein, and gave me a note 
for mother. He is called Mr. Flinders.” 

But I thought vour mother was daughter to Profess- 
or Hay?” 

But this is a half-brother; my grandmother was mar- 
ried before. Uncle Alfred has an immense light beard, 
and I think he is very poor. He came once or twice to 
see mother, and they always sent me out of the room; 
but I am sure she gave him money — not father’s house- 
keeping money, but what she got for herself by writing. 
Once I heard father go out of the house, saying, ‘Well, 
it’s your own to do as you please with.’ And then mother 
went to her room, and I knew she cried. It, was 
the first time that ever mother cried.” And as Maude 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


13 


listened, much impressed — Once when she had got 
eleven pounds, and we were going to have bought father 
such a binocular for a secret as a birthday present, Mr. 
Flinders came, and she gave him ten of it, and we could 
only buy just a few slides for father. And she told me 
she was grieved, but she could not help it, and it would 
be time for me to understand when I was older.” 

•‘I don’t think this Uncle Alfred can be nice,” said 
Maude. 

’Tis quite disgusting if he kisses me,” said Dolly; 
but you see he is poor, and all the Mohuns are stuck 
up, except father, and they wanted mother to despise, 
him, and not help him. And you see, she stuck to him. 
I don’t like him much; but you see nobody ever was like 
her! Oh, Maude, if she wasn’t dead!” 

And poor Dolores cried as she had not done even at the 
time of the accident, or in the terrible week that fol- 
lowed, or at the desolate home-coming. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE M E R K I F I E L 1) S . 

The cool twilight of a long sunny summer’s day was 
freshening the pleasant garden of a country house, and 
three people were walking slowly along a garden path en- 
joying the contrast with the heat, glare, and noise of tlie 
day. The central one was a tall, slender lady, with a light 
siiawl hung round her shoulders. On one side was a 
youth who had begun to overtop her, on the other a girl 
of shorter and sturdier mold, who only reached up to her 
shoulder. 

‘‘ So she is coming!” the girl said. 

^^Yes, Uncle Maurice has answered my letter verv 
kindly.” 

I should think he would be very much obliged,” ob- 
served the boy. 

Please, mamma, do tell us all about it,” said the girl. 

You know I stopped directly when you made me a sign 
not to go on asking questions before the little ones. And 
you said you should have to make us your friends while 
papa and the grown-ups are away.” 


14 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


Well, Gillian, I know you can be discreet when you 
are warned, and perhaps it is best that you should know 
how things stand. Do you remember anything about 
It, Hair 

‘‘Only a general perception that there were tempests 
in the higher regions, but I think that was more from 
hearing Alley and Phyl talk than from my native sagac- 
ity.’’ 

“So I should suppose, since you were only sfx years 
old, at the utmost.” 

“ But Uncle Maurice always was under a cloud, wasn’t 
he, especially at Beechcroft, where I never saw him or his 
wife in the holidays except once, when I believe she was 
not at all liked, and was thought to be very proud, and 
stuck-up, and pretentious.” 

“ But was she just nobody? not a lady?” cried Gillian. 
“ Aunt Emily always called her, ‘ Poor thing.’” 

“ Perhaps she did the same by Aunt Emily,” returned 
Hal. 

“ And I am sure I have heard Aunt Ada say that she 
wasn’t a lady; and Aunt Jane, that she had all sorts of 
d iscred i table con nections. ” 

“ Come, now, Gill, if you chatter so, how is mamma to 
get a word in between?” 

“ Pm afraid we have all been hard on her, poor thing!” 

“ There now, mamma has done it, just like Aunt 
Emily! ’ 

“Anybody would be poor who got killed in a glacier!” 

“No, but one doesn’t say poor when people are — nice.” 

“ Wlien I said poor,” now put in Lady .Merrifield, “it 
was not so much that I was thinking of her death as of 
her having come into a family where nobody welcomed 
her, and I really do not suppose it was her fault.” 

“ Moreover, she seemed to do very well without a wel- 
come,” added Hal. 

“ Who is interrupting now?” cried Gillian. “ But was 
she a lady?” 

‘•I never saw her, you know,” said the mother; “but 
from all I ever heard of her, I should think she was, and 
cleverer and more highly educated than any of us.” 

“ Yes,” said Hal, “that was the kind of pretension 
tiiat exasperated them all at Beechcroft. especially Uncle 
William.” 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 15 

“I wonder if Dolores will have it!” said Gillian. I 
•suppose she will know much more than we do.’* 

‘‘ Probably, being the only child of such parents, and 
with every advantage London can give. Maurice was 
always much the cleverest of us all, and with a verv 
strong mechanical and scientific turn, so that 1 now 
think it might have been better to have let him follow 
his bent. But when we were young there was a good 
deal of mistrust of anything outside the beaten tracks 
of gentlemanlike professions, and my dear old father 
did not like what he heard of the course of study for 
those lines. Things wei’e not as they are now. So 
Maurice went to Cambridge, and was fifth wrangler of 
his year, and then had to go to the Bar. It somehow 
always gave him a thwarted, injured feeling of working 
against the grain, and he cultivated all these scientific 
pursuits to the utmost, getting more and more into opin- 
ions and society that distressed grandpapa and Uncle 
William. So he fell in with Mr. Hav, a professor at a 
German university. I can hear William’s tone of utter 
contempt and disgust. I believe this poor man was ex- 
ceedingly learned, and had made some remarkable dis- 
coveries, but he was very poor, and lived in lodgings at 
Bonn with his daughter in the small way people are 
content to do in Germany. As to his opinions, we all 
took it for granted that he was a free-thinker; but I 
can’t tell how that might be. Maurice lodged in the 
same house one year when he went to learn German and 
attend lectures, and he went back again every long vaca- 
tion. At last came your dear grandfather’s death. Mau- 
rice hurried away from Beechcroft immediately after the 
funeral, and the next thing that was heard of him was 
that he had married Miss Hay. It was no wonder that 
your Uncle William was bitterly hurt and ojffended at the 
apparent disrespect to our father, and would make no 
move toward Maurice.” 

It was when we were at the Cape, wasn’t it?” asked 

Hal. 

Yes, the year Gillian was born. Well, your dear 
Uncle Claude went to see Maurice in London, and found 
there was much excuse. Maurice had learned that the old 
professor was dying, and his daughter had nothing, and 
would have had to be a governess, so that Maurice had 


16 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

married lier in haste in order to be able to help 

them. ’’ 

“ Then it really was very kind and noble in him!” ex- 
claimed Gillian. 

“And I believe every one would have felt so; but for 
his unfortunately reserved way of concealing the extent 
of the acquaintance, and showing that he would not be 
interfered with. Claude did his best to close the breach, 
but there had been something to forgive on both sides, 
and perhaps she was prouder than the Mohuns themselves. 
Oh! my dears, I hope you will never have a family quarrel 
among you! It is so sad to look back upon a change after 
the happy years when we were all together, and were 
laughing and making fun of one another!” 

“ But you were quite out of it, mamma.” 

“So I was in a way, but I knew nothing of the 
justification till too late for any advances from us to take 
much effect. I am four years older than Maurice, we had 
never been a pair, and had never corresponded. And 
when I wrote to him and to his wife, I only received stiff, 
formal answers. They were abroad when we were in 
London on coming home, and they would not come to see 
us at Belfast, so that I could never make acquaintance 
with her; but I believe she was an excellent wife, suiting 
him admirably in every way, and I expect to find this 
little daughter of theirs very well brought up, and much 
forwarder than honest old Mysie.” 

“ Mysie is in perfect raptures at the notion of having a 
cousin here exactly of her own age,” said Gillian. “ What 
she would wish is that the two should be so much alike as 
to be taken for twins. I have been trying to remember Do- 
lores on that dreadful Sunday at the hotel when Uncle Mau- 
rice came to see us, just when pap>a was setting off for Bom- 
bay, but it all seems confusion. I can think of nothing 
but a little black, shy figure. I remember Phyllis telling 
me that she thought I ought to do something to entertain 
her, hut I could not think of a word to say to her.” 

“ For which, perhaps, she was thankful,” said her 
brother. 

“ I am not sure. You are all too apt, when you are shy, 
to console yourselves with fancying that you are doing 
as you would be done by. It migiit have worried her 

then, perhaps, but it would have made it easier for her to 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. IT 

begin among ns now! I am very glad her fatlier consents 
to mv having her. I do hope we may make her happy 1’^ 

“ Happy 1’^ said Gillian. “Anybody must be happy 
with such a number to play with, and with you to mother 
her, mamma.” 

“ I am afraid she will not feel me much like her own 
motlier, poor child! But it will not be for want of the 
will. When I look back now I feel sorry for myself for 
the early loss of my mother, for, though we were all merry 
enough as children and young people, there always seems 
to have been a lack of something fostering and repressing. 
There was a kind of desolateness in our life, though we 
did not understand it at the time. I am thankful you 
have not known it, my dears.” There was a strange l ush 
of tears nearly choking her voice, and she shook them 
away with a sort of laugh. “ That I should cry for thal 
at this time of day!” 

Gillian raised her face for a kiss, and even Harry did 
the same. Their hearts were very full, as the perception 
swept over them in one flash what their lives would have 
been without mamma. It seemed jike the solid eai’tli giv- 
ing way under their feet! 

“ I am very sorry for poor Dolores,” said Gillian pres- 
entlv. “ It seems as if we could never be kind enough to 
her.” 

“ Yes. Indeed I hope we may do something toward 
supplying her with a real home, wandering sprites as we 
have been,” said the mother. 

“ But we have carried our home with us,” said Hal. 

“ It will be home when papa comes back, and these five 
'' years are over,” said Lady Merri field. 

“ What a name it is! Dolores! It is as bad as Peter 
Grievous! How did she get it?” grumbled Harry. 

“ That I can not tell, but I think we must call her Dora 
or Dolly, as I fancy your Aunt Jane told me she was called 
at homk I hope Wilfred will not get hold of it and tease 
her about it. You must defend her from that.” 

“ If we can,” said Gillian; “ but Wilfred is rather an 
imp.” 

“ Yes,” said Harry. “ I found Primrose reduced to the 
verge of distraction yesterday because ^ Willie would call 
her Leg of Mutton.’ ” 

“ I hojie you boxed his ears!” cried Gillian, 


18 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


“ I (lid give it to him well/’ .said Hal, laughing. 

“Thank yon/’ said his mother. “A big brother is 
more effective in such cases than any one else can be. 
Wilfred is the only one of yon all who ever seemed to take 
pleasure in causing pain — and I hardly know how to meet 
the propensity.” 

“ He is the only one who is not quite certain to be nice 
with Dolores,” said Gillian.” 

“ And I really don’t quite see how to manage,” said 
the mother. “If we show him our anxiety to shield her, 
it is very likely to direct his attention that way.” 

“ Siie*^ must take her cliance,” said Hal, “and if she is 
any way rational, she can soon put a stop to it.” 

“But, oh dear! I wish he could go to school,” said 
Oillian. 

“ So do I, my dear,” returned her mother; “but you 
know the doctors say we must not risk it for another year, 
and I can only hope that as he grows stronger, he may 
become more manlv. Meantime we must be jiatient with 
him, and Hal can help more than any one else. There — 
what’s that striking?” 

“ Three quarters.” 

“Then we must make haste in, or we shall not have 
finished supper before ten.” 

Idlias Mohun had married a soldier, and after many 
wanderings through military stations, the health and edu- 
cation of a large proportion of her family had necessitated 
her remaining at home with them, while her husband held 
a command in India, taking out with him the two grown- 
up daughters and the second son, who was on his staff'. ISlie 
was established in a large house not far from a country 
town, for the convenience of daily governess, tutor, and 
masters. She herself had grown up on the old system 
which made education depend more on the family than 
on the governess, and she preferred honestly the company 
and training of her children to going into society in her 
husband’s absence. Therefore she arranged her habits 
with a view to being constantly with them, and though 
exchanging calls, and occasionally accepting invitatior.s 
in the neighborhood, it was an understood thing that she 
went out very little. The chief exceptions were wiieu 
her eldest son, Harry, was at home from Oxford. He 
was devotedly fond of her, and all the more pleased and 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


19 


proud to Dike her about with liiin because it had not al- 
ways been possible that his holidays in his sciiool life 
should be spent at home, and thus the privilege was 
doubly prized. 

The two sisters above, and one brother below him were in 
India with their father, and Gillian was not yet out of 
the school-room, tiiough this did not cut her off from 
being her mother’s prime companion. Then followed a 
school-boy at Wellington, named Jasper, two more girls, 
a brace of boys, and the- five-year-old baby of the estab- 
lishment — sulhcient reasons to detain Lady Merrifield in 
England after more than twenty years of travels as a 
soldiei’’s wife, so that scarcely three of her children had 
the same birthplace. Sh.e had been able to see very little 
of her English relations, being much tied by the number 
of her children while all were very young, and the ex- 
pense of journeys; but she was now within easy reach of 
her two unmarried sisters, and after the Cape, Gibraltar, 
!Malta, and Dublin, the homes of her eldest sister and of 
her eldest brother did not seem very far off. 

Indeed, Beechcroft, the home of her childhood, had 
always been the head-quarters of herself and her children 
on their rare visits to England. Her elder boys had been 
sure of a welcome there in the holidays, and loved it 
scarcely less than she did herself; and when looking for 
her present abode, the whole family bad stayed there 
for three months. Her brother Maurice, however, she 
had scarcely seen, and she had been much pained at being 
included in his persistent avoidance of the whole family, 
who felt that he resented their displeasure at his mar- 
riage even more since his wife’s death than he had done 
during her life-time, as if he felt doubly bound, for her 
sake, not to forgive and forget. At least so said some 
of the family, while others hoped that his distaste to 
all intercourse with them only arose from the apathy 
succeeding a great blow. 


CHAPTER III. 

GOOD-BYE. 

A PASSAGE was offered to Mi'. Mohun in a queen’s 
ship, and this hurried the preparations so much that to 


:20 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

Dolores it appeared that there was nothing but bustle and 
confusion, from the day of her conversation with Maude, 
until she found herself in the railway carriage returning 
from Plymouth with . her eldest uncle. Her father had 
intended to take her himself to Silverfold; but detentions 
at the office in London, and then a telegram from Plym- 
outh, had disconcerted his plans, and when he found that 
his eldest brother would come and meet him at the last, 
he was glad to yield to his little daughter’s earnest desire 
to be with him as long as possible: 

Shv and reserved as both were, and almost incapable 
of finding expression for their feelings, they still clung 
closely together; though the only tears the girl was seen 
to shed came in church on the last Sunday evening, 
blinding and choking, and she could barely restrain her 
sobs. Her father would have taken her out, but she re- 
sisted, and leaned against him, while he put his arm round 
her. After this, whenever it was possible, she crept up 
to him, and he held her close. 

There had been no further discussion on her home. 
Lady Merrifield had written kindly to her, as well as to 
her father, but that was small consolation to one so well 
instructed by story-books in the hypocrisy of aunts until 
fathers were at a distance; and her father was so mani- 
festly gratified by the letter that it would be of no use to 
say a word to him now. Her fate was determined; and, 
as she heroically told Maude in their last interview, she 
was determined to make the best of it. She would en- 
<lure the unjust aunt and jealous, silly cousins, and be so 
clever, and wise, and superior, that she would force them 
to admire and respect her, and by and by follow her 
example, and be good and sensible, so that when father 
came home he would find them acknowledging that they 
owed everything to her; she had saved two or three of 
their lives, nursed half of them when the other half were 
lielpless, fainting and hysterical; and, in short, been the 
Providence of the household. Then father would look 
at her, and say, ‘^My Mary again!” and he would take 
her home, and talk to her with the free confidence he had 
shown her mother, and would be comforted. 

This was the hope that had carried her through the 
last parting, when she went on board with her uncle and 
saw her father’s cabin, and looked, with a dull kind of 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


21 


<'ntertuiiiment, ut all the curious arrangements of the big 
ship. It seemed more like sight-seeing than good-bye, 
when at last they were sent on shore, and hurried up to 
the station just in time for the train. 

Uncle William was a very unapproachable person. He 
did not profess to understand little girls. He looked at 
Dolores rather anxiously, afraid, perhaps, that she was 
crying, and put her into Uie carriage, then rushed out and 
brought back a handful of newspapers, giving her the 
•• Graphic,” and hiding himself in the Times.” 

She felt too dull and stunned to read, or to look at the 
pictures, though she held the paper in her hands, and she 
gazed out dreamily at the tors and rocks and woody 
ravines of Dartmoor as they flew past her, the leaves and 
fei-ns all golden brown with autumn coloring. She had 
had little sleep that night; her little legs had all the 
morning been keeping up with the two men’s iiasty stej^s, 
iind though an excellent meal had been set before her in 
the ship, she had not been able to swallow much, and she 
was a good deal worn out. So when at last they reached 
Exeter, and finding there would be two hours to wait, her 
uncle asked whether she would come down into the town 
with him and see the Cathedral, siie much preferred to 
stay where she was. He put her under the care of the 
woman in the waiting-room, who gave her some tea, took 
off her hat, and made her lie down on a couch, where she 
slept quite sound for about an hour, until she was roused 
by some ladies coming in with a crying baby. 

It was, she thought, nearly time to go on, for the gas 
was being lighted. Slie put on her hat, and went out to 
look for her uncle on tlie platform, so as to get into a 
better light to see the face of her mother’s little Swiss 
watch, which her father had just made over to her. She 
had just made out that there was not more than a quarter 
of an hour to spare, when she heard an exclamation. 

“By Jove! if that ain’t Mary’s little girl!” and, look- 
ing up she saw Mr. Flinders’s huge, busliy, light-colored 
beard. “Is your father here?” he asked. 

“No; he sailed this afternoon.” 

“Always my luck! Ticket wasted! Sailed — really?” 

“Oh, yes. We did not come back till the ship vvas out 
of harbor.” 

He muttered some exclamation, and asked: 


2 '^ 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 


‘MVlioni are you with?” 

'"Uncle William. Ylv. Mohun — my oldest uncle. He 
will be back directly.” 

^Ir. Flinders whistled a note of discontent. 

‘"Going to rusticate with him, poor little mite?” he 
asked. 

""No. Fm to live with my Aunt Lilias — Ladv Merri- 
field.” 

""Where?” 

""At Silverfold Grange, near Silverfold.” 

""Well, you’ll get among the swells. They’ll make yon 
cut all your poor mother’s connections. So there’s an end 
of it. She was a good creature — she was!” 

""Fll never forget anyone that belongs to her,” said 
Dolores. "" Oh, there’s Uncle William!” iis on the top of 
the stairs she spied the welcome sight of his gray locks 
and burly figure. Before he had descended, her other 
uncle had vanished, and she fancied she had heard some- 
thing about Mum about our meeting. Ta ta!” 

Uncle William’s eyes being less sharp than hers, he was 
on his way to the waiting-room before she joined him, 
and as he had not seen her encounter, she would not tell 
him. ^riiey were settled in the carriage again, and she 
was tolerably refreshed. Mr. Mohun fell asleep, and she, 
after I’eading by the lamplight as long as she could find 
anything to read, gazed at the odd reflections in the win- 
dows till she, too, nodded and dozed, half waking at every 
station. 

At last she was aware of a stop in earnest voices, and 
being called. There was her uncle saying, ""Well, Hal, 
here we are!” and she was lifted out and set on the plat- 
form, with gas all round. Her uncle was saying, “We 
didn’t get away in time for the express,” and a young 
man was answering, ""We’d better put Dolly into the 
wagonette at once. Then Fll see to the luggage.” 

Very like a parcel, so stiff were her legs, she was bundled 
into the dark cavern of a closed wagonette and, after a 
little lumbering, her uncle and the young man got in after 
her, saying something about eleven o’clock. 

Siie was more awake now, and knew that they were 
driving through lighted streets, and then, after an inter- 
val, turned into darkness, upon gravel, and stopped at 
last before a door full of light, with figures standing 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


23 


lip dark in it. She heard a 'MVell, William Weil, 
Lily, here we are at last!*’ Then there were arms embrac- 
ing her, and a kiss on each cheek, as a soft voice said. 

My poor little girl! They wanted to sit np for you, 
but it was too late, and I dare say yon had rather be 
quiet.” 

She was led into a lamplit room, which dazzled her. 

It was spread with food, but she was too much tired to 
eat, and her aunt saw how it was, and, telling Harry to 
take care of his uncle, she took the hand — though it did 
not close on hers — and, climbing up what seemed to 
Dolores an endless number of stairs, she said — 

“ You are up high, my dear, but I thought you would 
like a room to yourself.” 

Poked away in an attic,” was Dolores’s dreamy thought, 
while her aunt added to a tall, thin woman, who came out 
with a lamp in her hand: 

“ She is so tired that she had better go to bed directly, 
Mrs. nalf})enny. You will make her comfortable, and 
don’t let her be disturbed in the morning till she has had 
her sleep out.’’ 

Dolly found herself undressed, without many words, 
till it came to — ‘‘Your prayers. Miss Dora. I am sure 
you’ve need not to miss them.” 

She did not like to be told; besides, poor child, prayers 
were not much more than a form to her. She did not 
contest the point, but knelt down and muttered some- 
thing, then laid her weary head on the })illow, was tucked 
up % Mrs. Halfpenny, and left in the dark. It was a 
dreary half sleep into which she fell. The noise of the 
train seemed to be still in her ears, and at the same time ^ 
she was always been driven up — up — up endless stairs by 
tall, cruel aunts; or they w'ere shutting her up to do all 
their children’s work, and keeping away father’s letters 
from her. Then she awoke and told herself it was a 
dream, but she missed the noises of the street, and the 
patch of light on the wall from the gas lamps, and recol- 
lected that father was gone, and she was really in the 
power of one of these cruel aunts; and she felt like 
screaming, only then she might have been heard; aiul a 
great horrid clock went on making a noise like a church 
bell, and striking so many odd quarters that there was no 
guessing when morning was coming. And, after all, why 


‘^4 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

should slie wish it to come? Oh, if she could but sleep 
the three years while father was away! 

At last, however, she fell into a really calm sleep, and 
when she awoke, the room was full of light, but her watch 
had stopped; she had been too much tired to remember to 
wind it; and she lay a little wliile hearing sounds that 
made it clear that the world was astir, and she could see 
that preparations liad been made for her getting up. 

^‘They sha’n’t begin by scolding me for being late,’’ she 
thought, and she began her toilet. 

Just as she came to her hair, the old nurse knocked and 
asked whether she wanted help. 

Thank you, I’ve been used to dress myself,” said 
Dolores, rather proudly. 

‘‘I’ll help you now, missy, for prayers are over, and 
they are all gone to breakfast, only my lady said you were 
not to be disturbed, and Miss Mysie will be up presently 
again to bring you down.” 

She spoke low, and in an accent that Dolores afterward 
learned was Scotch; and she was a tall, thin, bony woman, 
with sandy hair, who looked as if she had never been 
young. She brushed and plaited the dark hair in a 
manner that seemed to the owner more wearisome and less 
tender than Caroline’s fashion; and did not talk more 
than to inquire into the fashion of wearing it, and to say 
that Miss Mohun’s boxes had been sent from London, 
demanding the keys that they might be unpacked. 

“ I can do that myself,” said Dolores, who did not like 
any stranger to meddle with her things. 

“ Ye could tak them oot, nae doubt, but I must sort 
them. It’s my lady’s orders,” said Mrs. Halfpenny, with 
all the determination of the sergeant, her husband, and 
Dolores, with a sense of despair, and a sort of expectation 
that she should be deprived of all her treasures on one 
plea or another, give up the keys. 

Mrs. Halfpenny then observed that the frock which had 
been worn for the last two days on the railway, and even- 
ing and morning, needed a better brushing and setting 
to rights than she had had time to give it. She had better 
take out another. Which box were her frocks in? 

Dolores expected her heartless relations to insist on her 
leaving off her mourning, and she knew she ought tostruir- 
gle and shed tears over it; but, to tell the truth, she was 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


25 


ii good deal tired of her liot and fusty black; and when 
she had followed Mrs. Halfpenny into a passage where the 
boxes stood uncorded; and the first dress that came to 
light WHS a pretty fresh -looking liolland that had been 
sent home just before the accident, she exclaimed — 

'‘Oh, let me put that on.” 

“ Bless me, miss, it has blue braid, and you in mourn- 
ing for your poor mamma!” 

Dolores stood abashed, but a gray alpaca, which she had 
always much disliked, came out next, and Mrs. Half- 
penny decided that with her black ribbons that would do, 
though it turned out to be rather shockingly short, and 
to show a great display of black legs; but as the box con- 
taining the clothes in present wear had not come to hand, 
this must stand for the present: and besides, a voice was 
heard, saying, “Is Dora ready?” and a young person 
darted up, put her arms round her neck, and kissed her 
before she knew what she was about. “Mamma said I 
should come because I am just your age, thirteen and a 
half,” she said. “ Dm Mysie, though my proper name is 
Maria Millicent.” 

Dolores looked her over. She was a good deal taller 
than herself, and had rich-looking shining brown hair, 
dark brown eyes full of merriment, and a bright rosy color, 
and she danced on her active feet as if she were full of 
perpetual life. “ All happy and not caring,” thought 
Dolores. 

“ Now don’t fash Miss Mohun with your tricks. She 
lias stood like a lamb,” said Mrs. Halfpenny, reprovingly. 
“There, we’ll not keep her to find an apron.” 

“ I don’t wear pinafores,” said Mysie, “ but I don’t 
mind pretty aprons like this. “ Why, my sisters had 
them for tennis, before they went out to India. Come 
along, Dora,” grasping her hand. 

“My name isn’t Dora,” said the new-comer, as they 
went down the passage. 

“No,” said Mysie, in a low voice; “but mamma told 
Gill— that’s Gillian, and me, that we had better not tell 
anybody, because if the boys heard they might tease you 
so about it; for Wilfred is a tease, and there’s no stopping 
liim wlien mamma isn’t there. So she said she would call 
vou Dora, or Dollv, whichever you liked, and you are not 
a bit like a Dolly.” 


26 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


They always called me Dolly, said Dolores; and if' I 
am not to liave my name, I like that best; bnt I had 
rather have my proper name.’’ 

“ Oh, very well, said Mysie; it is more out of the vvay, 
only it is very long.” 

By this time they had descended a long narrow flight 
of uncarpeted stairs, the back ones,” as Mysie explained, 
and had reached a slippery oak hall with high-backed 
chairs, and all the odds and ends of a family — garden hats,, 
water-proof, goloshes, bats, rackets, umbrellas, etc., ranged 
round, and a great white cockatoo upon a stand, who 
observed — ‘‘Mysie, Cockie wants his breakfast,” as they 
went by toward the door, whence proceeded a hubbub of 
voices and a clatter of knives and jingle of teasi^oons and 
cups, a room that as Mysie threw open the door seemed a 
blaze of sunshine, pouring in at the large window’, and 
reflected in the glass and silver. Yes, and in the bright 
e3^es and glossy hair of the part}^ who sat round the break- 
fast-table, further brightened by the fire, pleasant in the 
early autumn. 

" Eyes, as it seemed to Dolores, eyes without number 
were leveled on her, as Mysie led her in. Saying: 

“ Here’s a place by mamma; she kept it for you, be^ 
tween her and Uncle William.” 

“ No, don’t all jump up at once and rush at her,” said 
Lady Merrifield. “ Give her a little time. Here, my 
dear;” and she held out her hand and drew in the stran- 
ger to her, kissing her kindly, and placing her in a chair 
close to lierself, as she presided over the tea-cups — not at 
the end, but at the middle of the table — while all that 
could be desii'ed to eat and drink found its 'way at once to> 
Dolores, who had arrived at being hungry now, and was 
glad to have the employment for hands and eyes, instead 
of feeling herself gazed at. She was not so much occu- 
pied, how’ever, as not to perceive that Uncle William’s voice 
had a free, merry ring in it, such as she had never heard 
in his visits to her father, .^ind that there was a great deal 
of fun and laughter going on over the thin sheets of an 
Indian letter, which Aunt Lily was reading aloud. 

No one seerned^ to be^^attending to anything else, when 
Dolores ventured to cast a glance*^round and endeavor to 
count heads as she sat betw’een her uncle and aunt. Two 
boys.and a girl were opposite. Sarry, who had come to 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


27 


meet them last night, was at one end of tlie table, a tall 
girl, but still a school-room girl, was at the other, and 
Mysie had been lost sight of on her own side of the table; 
also there was a very tiny girl on a high chair on the 
other side of her mamma. “ Seven!” tlioiight Dolores 
with sinking heart, eight oppressors!” 

They were mostly brown-eyed, well-grown creatures. 
One boy, at the further corner, had a cast in his eye, and 
was thin and wizen-looking, and when he saw her eyes on 
him, he made up an ugly face, which he got rid of like a 
flash of ligi)tning, before any one else could see it, but her 
heart sunk all the more for it. He must be Wilfred, the 
teaser. 

xYunt Lilias was a tall, slender woman, dressed in some 
kind of soft gray, with a little carnation color at her 
throat, and a pretty lace cap on her still rich, abundant, 
dark brown hair, where dilligent search could only detect 
a very few white threads. Her complexion was always of 
a soft, paly, brunette tint, and though her cheeks sliowed 
signs that she was not young, her dark, soft, long-lashed 
eyes Jind sweet-looking lips made her face full of life and 
freshness; and the figure and long, slender Lands had the 
kind of grace that some people call willowy, but which is 
perhaps more like the general air of a young birch-tree, or, 
as Hal had once said, Early pointed architecture re- 
minded him of his mother.” 

‘^How very ridiculous, affected, and fine ladyish,” 
thought Dolores, whose mother had been a quick, lively 
little gray-eyed woman, with no turn for dress, and no 
pretensions to beauty. 

The little one was- getting restless, and two of the boys 
began filliping crumbs at one another. 

“ Wilfred! Fergus!” said the mother quite low and 
gently; but tliey stopped directly. “ We will say grace,” 
she said, lifting the little one down. ‘^ISTow, Primrose.” 

Every one stood up, to Dolores’ surprise, a pair of little 
fat hands were put together, a clear voice said a few words 
of tlianksgiving perfectly pronounced. 

“ You may go, if you like,” she said. Hal, take care 
of Prim.” 

Up jumped the two boys and a sprite of a girl, who 
took tiie hand of little Prfmrose, a beautiful little maiden 
with riel) chestnut wavy curls, ddiey all paused at the 


28 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


door, the boys making a salute, the girls a little courtesy. 
Primrose’s was as pretty a little bob” as ever was seen. 

am glad you keep that custom up,” said Mr. 
Mohun. 

‘‘Jasper had been brought up to it, and wished it to be 
the habit among us; and I find it a great protection 
against bouncing and rudeness.” 

But Dolly’s blood boiled at such stupid, antiquated, 
military nonsense. She would never give in to it, if they 
made her live on bread and water! 

Tlie uncle and aunt, who perhaps had lengthened out 
their breakfast from politeness to her, had finished when 
she had, and the pony-chaise came to the door, in which 
Hal was to drive Uncle William to the station. Every- 
body flocked to the door to bid him good-bye, and then 
Aunt Lilias stooped down to ask Dolores if she were quite 
rested and felt quite well, Mysie standing anxiously by as 
if she felt her a great charge. 

“Quite well, quite rested, thank you,” the girl an- 
swered in her stiff, shy way. 

“ There is half an hour to spare before Miss Vincent 
comes. The children generally spend it in feeding the 
creatures. I am not going to give a holiday, because I 
think people get more pleasantly acquainted over some- 
thing, than over nothing, to do, but you need not begin 
lessons to-day if you had rather settle your thoughts and 
write your letters.” 

“ 1 had rather begin at once,” said Dolores, who 
thought she would now establish her pre-eminence at the 
cost of any amount of jealousy, 

“Very well, then, when you hear the gong — ” 

“Mamma,” said Mysie, solemnly, after long waiting, 
“ she says she had rather not be called out of her name.” 

“1 thought yon had been called Dolly, my dear.” 

“Yes, at 7^ome,” with a strong emphasis. 

“Well, my dear, I dare say it may be better to keen 
to your proper name at once. ^ AVe won’t take liber- 
ties with it, till you feel as if you could call this 
home,^^ said Lady Merrifield, looking as if slie would have 
kissed her niece on the slightest encouragement, but no 
one ever looked less kissable than Dolores Mohun at That 
moment. AVas it not cruel and h 3 qiocritical to talk of this 
tiresome multitude as ever making home? 


THE TWO SIDES OF' THE SHIELD. 


29 


CHAPTER IV. 

TURNED IN AMONG THEM. 

Do you like pets?” asked Mysie eagerly, as her mother 
left the two girls together. 

I never liad any,” said Dolores. 

‘‘Oh, how dreadful! Why, old Cockie, and Aga and 
Begum, the two oldest pussies, have been everywliere 
with us. And, besides, there’s Basto, the big Pyrenean 
dog, and — oh, here comes little Quiz, mamma’s little 
Maltese — Quiz, Quiz.” 

Dolores started, she did not like either dogs or cats; 
and the little spun -glass looking dog smelt about her. 

“ I WMst go and feed my guinea-pig,” said Mvsie; 
“ won’t you come? Here are some ’overslioes and Pon- 
cho.” 

Dolores was afraid Poncho was another beast, but it 
turned out to be a sort of cape, and she discovered that 
all the cloaks and most of the sticks had names of their 
own. She was afraid to be left standing on the steps 
alone lest any amount of animals or boys should fall on 
her there, so she consented to accompany Mysie, who 
shuffled along in a pair of overshoes vastly too big for 
her, since she had put her cousin into the well-fitting 
ones. She chatted all the way. 

“We do like this place It is the nicest we have 
ever been in. All that is wanting is that papa and my 
sisters should be at home. We hope papa will buy it, and 
then we shall never go away again.” 

It was a pleasant place, though not grand; a homely 
looking, roomy, red-brick house, covered with creepers' — 
the Virginian one witli its leaves just beginning to be 
painted. There was a bright sunny garden full of flowers 
in front, and then a paddock, with cows belonging to a 
farmer, Mysie said; It was her ambition to have them of 
tlieir own “ when papa came home,” when all good tilings 
were to happen. Behind there were large stable-yards 
and offices, too large for Lady Merrifield’s one horse and 
one pony, and thus available for the children’s menagerie 
of rabbits, guinea-pigs, magpie, and the like. On the 


30 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


%vuy ]\[vsie was only too happy to explain the family as she 
-called it, wiien she had recovered from her astonishment 
that Dolores, always living in England, could not ‘‘count 
np her cousins.’’ “Why they always had been shown 
their photographs on a Sunday evening after the Bible 
pictures, and even little Primrose knew all the likenesses, 
even of those she had never seen,” 

Pho catalogue of names and ages followed. 

Dolores heard it with a feeling of bewilderment, and a 
sense that one Maude was worth all theeightjiut together 
with whom she was called on to be familiar. She found 
lierself standing in a court, rather grass-grown, where 
Oillian, with little Primrose by her side, was flinging pease 
to a number of pigeons, gray, white and brown, who 
fluttered round hei*. Valetta and Fergus were on the 
granary steps, throwing meal and sop mixed together to a 
host of cackling, struggling fowls, who tried to leap over 
each others’ backs. Wilfred seemed busy at some hutches 
where some rabbits twitched their noses at cabbage-leaves. 
Mysie proceeded to minister to some black and rust-colored 
guinea-pigs, which she required her cousin to pronounce 
lovely, but which Dolores thought very ugly, uninterest- 
ing and odorous. 

Then there were dogs jumping about elsewhere, and 
cats and kittens parading before people’s feet, so that Do- 
lores felt as if she had been turned into a den of wild 
beasts, and resolved against ever again venturing into the 
court at “ feeding- time.” A big bell gathered all the 
children up together into a race to the house. There was 
another scurry to change shoes and wash hands, and then 
Mysie conducted her cousin into a large, cheerful, wains- 
coted room on the ground floor, with deep windows, and 
numerous little, solid-looking deal tables. There were 
Lady Merrifield and a young lady in spectacles, to whom 
Dolores was presented as “your new pupil,” and every 
one sat down at one of the little tables, on which there 
were Bibles and Prayer-books. 

Lady Merrifield took the two youngest on each side of 
her. Dolores found a table ready for her with the books. 
A passage in the New Testament was given out and read 
verso by verso, to tlie end of the subject, wliich was the 
Parable of the d’ares, and then Lady Merrifield gave a 
jshort lesson on it, asking questions, and causing refer- 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 31 

enccs to be found, according to a book of notes she had 
ready at hand. 

“ Just like a charity school,’’ thought Dolores, when 
she was able to glance at the time-table, and saw that two 
days in the week there was Old Testament, two days New, 
one day Catechism, one day Prayer-book. Only half an 
liour was thus appropriated, but to her mind it was an 
old-fashioned waste of time, and very tiresome. 

Then came a ring at the door-l)ell. “ Mr. Poulter,”^ 
she heard, and to her amazement she found that Gillian 
and Mysie, as well as their brothers, had Latin lessons in 
the dining-room with the curate. The two girls and Fer- 
gus only went to him every other day, Wilfred evei‘y day, 
as Gillian was learning Greek and mathematics. What 
was Dolores to do?” 

“ Have you done any Latin, my dear?” asked her 
aunt. 

“Not yet. Father wished to be quite convinced that 
the jn'ofessor was a good classical scholar,” said Dolores. 

“ Very well. We will wait a little,” said Aunt Lilias, 
and Dolores indignantly thought that she was amused. 

Mysie was sent off to her music in the drawing-room, 
whither her mother followed wdth Primrose’s little les-^ 
sons, leaving the school-room piano to Valetta, and Fer- 
gus to v/rite copies and to do sums, while Miss Vincent 
examined the new-comer, which she did by giving her 
some questions to answer in writing, and some French and 
German to translate and parse also in writing. 

'The music was inconvenient to a girl who had always 
])repared her work alone. She could do the language work 
easily, but the questions teased her. They seemed to her 
of no use, and quite out of her beat. No dates, none of 
the subjects she had specially got up. Why, if Miss Vin- 
cent did not know that people were not to be expected to 
answer stupid questions about history quite out of their 
own line, that was her fault. 

She did what she knew, and then sat biting the top of 
her pen till her aunt came back, and there was a change 
in occupations all round, resulting in her having to read 
French aloud, which she knew she did well; but it was 
provoking to find that Gillian read quite as well, and knew 
a word at which she had made a shot, and a wrong one. 

She heard the observation pass between her aunt and 


32 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


the governess, ‘‘ Languages fair, but she seems to have 
very little general information.’’ 

General information, indeed! Just as if siie who had 
lived in London, gone to lectures, and traveled on the 
Continent, must not know more than these cliildren cast 
up and down in a soldier’s life; and as if her Fraulein, 
with all her diplomas, must not be far superior to a mere 
little daily governess, and a mother! It was all for the 
5ake of depreciating her. 

At twelve o’clock, to her further indignation, she found, 
tiiere was to be an hour of reading aloud and of needle- 
work — actual plain needle-work. The three girls were 
making under-garments for themselves; and on Dolores 
proving to have no work of any sort, her aunt sent Gill- 
ian to the drawer, and produced a child’s pinafore, which 
she was desired to hem. Each, however, liad a quarter 
of an hour’s reading aloud of history to do in turn, all 
from one big book, a history of Rome, and there was a 
map hung up over the blackboard, where they were in 
turn to point to the places mentioned. Before Gillian 
began reading, the date, and .something about the former 
lesson were required to be told by the children, and it came 
quite readily, Valetta especially declaring that she did 
love Pyrrhus, which the others seemed to think very bad 
taste. 

Dolores knew nothing about ancient history, and 
thought it foolish to study anything that did not tell in a 
Cambrige examination; but slie supposed they knew no 
better down there; and when it came to her turn to read, 
she mangled the names so, that Val burst out laughing 
when she spoke of A-pious-Claudius. Lady Merrifield 
hushed this at once, and the girl read in a bewildered 
manner, and as one affronted. She saw her aunt looking 
at her piece of hemming, which, to say the truth, woukl 
not have done credit to Primrose, and the recollectinn 
came across her of all the oppressed orphans who had been 
made household drudges, so that her reading did not be- 
come more intelligible. As the clock struck one, a warn- 
ing gong was heard; everybody jumped up, the work was 
■folded away, and with the obeisance at the door, Gillian 
and Val ran away. 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


33 


** I must teach you how to hold your needle to-morrow, 
iny dear.” 

“1 hate work,” responded Dolores. 

\ al does not like it,” said her aunt; nor indeed did 
I at your age; but one can not be an independent woman 
without being able to take care of one’s own clothes, so I 
resolved that tliese cldldren should learn better than I 
did. Do you like to take a run with Mysie before dinner? 
Or there is the amusing shelf. Books may be taken out; 
after one o’clock, and they must be put back at eight, or 
they are confiscated for the ensuing day,” she added, 
pointing to a paper below where this sentence was written. 

Dolores was still rather tired, and more inclined to 
make friends with the books than with the cousins. 
There were fewer than she expected, and nothing like so 
many absolute stories as she was used to reading with 
Maude Sefton. 

Those are such grown-up books,” she said to Mysie, 
who came to assist her choice, and pointed to the upper 
shelves. 

‘‘Oh, but grown-up books are nicest!” returned Mysie; 
“at least, when they don’t begin being stupid and marry- 
ing too soon. They must do it at last to get out of tlie 
story, and it’s nicer than dying, but they can have lots of 
nice adventures first. But here are the ‘ Feats on the 
Fiords’ and the ‘ Orofton Boys’ and ‘Water Babies,’ and 
all the volumes of ‘Aunt Judy,’ if you like the younger 
sort. Oh the dear, dear ‘Thorn Fortress;’ that’s good for 
young and old.” 

“ Haven’t you any books of your own?” 

“ Oh yes; this ‘Thorn Fortress’ is Val’s, and ‘A York 
and a Lancaster Rose’ is mine, but whenever any one gives 
us a book, if it is not a weeny little gem like Gill’s ‘ Cliris- 
tian year/ or my ‘ Little Pillows,’ or Val’s ‘ Children in the 
Wood,’ we bring it to mother, and if it is nice, we keep it 
here, for every one to read. If it is just rather silly, and 
stupid, we may read it once, and then she keeps it; and 
if it is very silly indeed, she puts it out of the way.” 

Mysie said it as if it had been killing an animal. 

“ Have you got many books?” 

“ Yes; but I don’t mean to have them knocked about 
by all the boys, nor put out of the way neither.” 

“ Mamma said vve were to be all like sisters,” said 


34 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


Mysie, witli rather a craving for the new books; but 
Dolores tossed up her head and said: 

‘‘ We can’t be. It’s nonsense to say so.” 

To iier surprise, Mysie turned round to Lady Merri- 
field, who was looking at some exercises that Miss Vin- 
cent had laid before her. 

Mamma,” she said, ‘Ms it fair that Dolores should 
read our books, if she won’t give you up hers to look over, 
and be like ours?” 

“Mysie,” said Lady Merrifield, “you can’t expect 
Dolores to like all our home plans till she is used to them. 
No, rny dear, you need not be afraid; you shall keep your 
bookf in your own room, and nobody shall meddle with 
them. I am sure your cousins would not wish to be so 
unkind as to deprive you of the use of theirs.” 

By the time Dolores had made up her mind to take 
“Tom Brown,” it was time for the general flight to pre- 
pare for dinner, and she found her room made to look 
very pleasant, and almost home-like, for her books and 
little knickknacks had been put out, not quite us she pre- 
ferred, but still as to make the place seem like her own» 
She was pleased enough to be quite gracious to Mysie and 
Yal who came to visit her, and to offer to let them read 
any of her books; when they both thanked her and said: 

“ If mamma lets us.” 

“ Oh, then you won’t have them,” said Dolores; “ I’m 
not going to let her liave my books to take away.” 

“You don’t think she would take them away, when 
she said she wouldn’t?” said Mysie, hotly. 

“ MHiy, what would she do if she din’t happen to ap- 
prove of them?” 

“ Only tell us not to read them.” 

“ Ami wouldn’t you?” 

“"Why, Dolores!” in such a tone as made her ashamed 
of her question; and she said, “ Well, father never makes 
anv fuss about what I read. He has other thinsfs to think 
of.” 

“ How do you get books, then?” 

“I buy them. And Maude Sefton, she’s my great 
friend, has lots given to lier, but nobody bothers about 
reading them. They aren’t grown-up books, you know.” 

“How stupid,” said Val. “ Y^ou had better read tho 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


35 


^ Talisiiiiin,’ and tlieii voii’ll see how nice a 2Town-in) 
book is.” 

The ‘ Talisman’! Why, Maude Sefton’s brother had 
to get it up for his holiday task, and he said it was all 
rot and bosh.” 

What a horridly stupid boy he must be,” returned 
My sie. Why, I remember when Jasper once had the 
’ T'alisman ’ to do, and the big ones were so delighted, 
idamma read it out, and I was just old enough to listen. 
I remembered all about Sir Kenneth' and Roswal.” 

‘‘Tom Sefton’s not stupid!” said Dolores, in wrath; 
“but — but the book is stupid and out of date! I heard 
father and the professor say it was gone by.” 

M ysie and Valetta looked perfectly astounded, and 
Dolores pursued her advantage. 

“ Of course it is all very well for you that have never 
lived iji London, nor had any advantages.” 

“ But we have advantages!” cried Val. 

“You don’t know what advantages are,” said Dolores. 

“There’s the gong,” cried Mysie, and down they all 
plunged into the dining-room, where the family were 
again collected, witli Hal at one end and his mother at the 
other. 

Dolores was amazed when, at the first pause, after every 
one vvas helped, Valetta’s voice arose. 

“ iMamma, what are advantages?” 

“ Don’t you know, Val?” 

“ Dolores says we haven’t any. And I said we have. 
And she says I don’t know what advantages are.” 

Hal and (iillian were both laughing with all their might. 
Their mother kept her countenance, and said; 

“I suppose every one has advantages of some sort, and 
perhaps without knowing them.” 

“ I’m sure I know,” cried Fergus. 

“ Well, what are they?” asked Harry. 

“Having mamma!” cried the little boy. 

“ Hear, hear! That’s right, Fergy man! Couldn’t be 
better!” cried Harry, and there was a general acclamation, 
which inspired gentle Mysie with the fear that her moth- 
erless cousin might feel the contrast, and, though against 
rules, she whispered: 

“She will make you like one of us,” 


36 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


“ Tliat wasn’t what I meant,” returned Dolores, a little 
contcin ptnously. 

‘‘ Wliatdid you mean?” said Mysie. 

** Wliy, you’ve no classes, nor lectures, nor masters, and 
only just a mere daily governess.” 

Dolores did not mean this to be heard beyond her 
neiohhor, but Mysie demanded: 

“ What, do you want to be doing lessons all day long?” 

“ No, but good governesses never are daily!” 

That’s a pity,” said Gillian, turning round on her. 

Perhaps you don’t know that Miss Vincent has a first- 
class Cambridge certificate in everything, and is daily, 
because she likes to live with lier mother.” 

“ I think,” added Lady Merrifield, with a smile, ‘^that 
Dolores has been in the way of seeing more clever people, 
and getting superior teaching of some kind, but we will 
do the best we can for her, and try not to let her miss 
many ad van tages. ” 

Dolores felt a little abashed, and decidedly angry at being 
put in the wrong. 

The elders kindly turned away the general attention 
from her. There was a great deal of merry family fun 
going on, which was quite like a new language to her, 
Fergus and Primrose wanted to go out in search of black- 
berries. Gillian undertook to drive tiiem in the cart, but 
as the donkey had once or twice refused to cross a little 
stream of water that traversed the road, the brothers fore- 
told that she would ignominiously come back again. 

“ Gill and water are perilous!” observed Hal. 

Jack’s not here,” said Gillian; ‘‘ besides, it is down, 
not up the hill, and Pm sure I don’t want to draw a pail 
of water.” 

“No, Sancho will do that.” 

“ 'I’he gong will sound and sound, buzz and roar,” said 
Wilfred. “No Gill! no little ones! We shall send out 
and find them stuck fast in the lane, Sancho with his feet 
spread out wide. Gill with three or four sticks lying 
broken on the road round her, the kids reduced to eating 
blackberries like the children in the wood.” 

“Don’t, Fred,” said Gillian. You’ll frighten them.” 

“ Little donkeys!” said Wilfred. 

“ If they were, we shouldn’t want Sancho,” said Val. 

It was not a very sublime bit of wit, but there was a 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


37 


great laugli at it all round the table. Val and Fergus de- 
clared they would go too, till they heard that Nurse Half- 
penny said she would not let the little ones go without 
her to tear their clothes to pieces. 

Every one unanimously declared that would be no fun 
at ail, and turned to mamma to beg her to forbid nurse to 
come out and spoil everything. 

“ That’s just her view,’’ said mamma, laughing; ^'^she 
thinks you spoil everything.” 

Oh, that’s clothes! Spoiling fun is worse.” 

But were you really going with the old Halfpenny, 
Gill?” said 'Mysie, turning to her. 

“ Yes,” said Gillian. Y’ou know I can manage her 
pretty well when it is only the little ones, and they 
wouldn’t have any pleasure otherwise.” 

Oh, come, Gill,” entreated Fergus, or nurse will 
make us sit in the donkey-cart all the time while Lois 
picks the blackberries!” 

‘•'Mamma, do tell her not to come,” entreated Valetta, 
and more of them joined in with her. 

“ No, my dears, I don’t like to vex her when she thinks 
she is doing her dut}".” 

“She wouldn’t come if you did, mamma,” and there 
was a general outcry of entreaty that mamma would come 
with them, and defend them from Mrs. Halfpenny, as 
Fei’gus, who was rather a formal little fellow, expressed 
it, and mamma, after a little consideration, consented to 
drive the pony-carriage in that direction, and to announce 
to Nurse Halfpenny that she herself would take charge 
of the children. Whereupon there was a whoop and a 
war-dance of jubilee, quite overwhelming to Dolores, who 
could not but privately ask Mysie if Nurse Halfpenny was 
so very cross. 

“ Awfully,” said Mysie, and Wilfred added: 

“ As savage as a bear with a sore head.” 

“Like Mrs. Crabtree?” asked Dolores. 

“ Exactly. Jasper called her so when he wanted to lash 
her up, till" at last she got hold of his ‘Holiday House’ 
and threw it into the sea, and it was in Malta and we 
couldn’t get another,” said Mysie. 

“And haven’t you one?” 

“ Yes, Gill and I saved for it; but mamma only let us 


38 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


lijive it on condition we made a solonin promise never to 
tease nnrse about it.'*’ 

‘^And does she go at you with that dreadful thing — 
what’s its name — the tawse?” 

“Ah! you’ll soon know.” said Wilfred. 

“'No, no; nonsense, Fred/’ said Mysie, as Dolores’ face 
worked with consternation. “ Slie never liits us, not if 
we are ever so tiresome. Papa and mamma would not let 
her.” 

“ But why do they let her be so dreadful? Maude’s 
nurse used to bo horrid and slap her, and when her 
mother found it out the woman was sent away directly.” 

“ Nnrse Halfpenny isn’t that sort,” said Mysie. “ tier 
husband was papa’s color- sergeant, and he got a sun-stroke 
and died, and then she came when Gillian was just born, 
and so weak and tiny that she would never have lived if 
nurse hadn’t watched her day and night, and so Gillian’s 
her favorite, except the youngest, and she is ever so good, 
you know. Pve heard the ladies, when we were with the 
dear old lllth, telling mamma how they envied her her 
trustworthy treasure.” 

“lam sure they niight have had her at half-price,” 
said Wilfred. “She’d be dear at a farthing!” 

At that moment ^Mrs. Halfpenny’s voice was heard de- 
manding if it were really her ladyship’s pleasure to go 
out, fatiguing herself to the very death with all the chil- 
dren rampaging about her and tearing themselves to 
pieces, if not poisoning themselves with all sorts of nasty 
berries. 

“Indeed Pll take care of them and bring them back 
safe to you,” responded her ladyship, very much in the 
tone of one of her own children making promises. “ Put 
them on their brown hollands and they can’t come to 
much harm.” 

“ Well, if it’s your wish, ma’am, my leddy; what must 
be, must, but I know how it will be — you’ll come back 
tired out, fit to drop, and Miss Val and IMiss Primrose 
won’t have a rag fit to be seen on them. But if it’s your 
will, what must be, must, for you’re no better than a 
bairn yourself, general’s lady though you be, amlG.C.B.” 

“ No, nurse, you’ll be G.C.B--Grand Commander of 
the Bath — when we come home,” called out Hal, who 
was leaning on the baluster at the bottom, and there was 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 


39 


a general laugh, during which Dolly tardily olinibed the 
stairs, so tardily that her aunt, meeting her, asked whether 
she was still tii'ed, and if she would rather have the after- 
noon to arrange her room. 

Slie said ves,’^ but not thank you,’’ and went on, 
relieved that Mysie did not offer to stay and help her, 
and yet rather offended at being left alone, while all the 
others went their own way, bhe heard them pattering 
and clattering, shouting and calling up and down the 
passages, and then came a great silence, while they could 
be seen going down the drive, some on foot, some in she 
jiony-chaise or donkey-cart. 

Her things had all been unpacked and put in order, 
and her room had a very cheerful window. It was pret- 
tily furnished with fresh pink and white dimity, and 
choice-looking earthenware, but to London eyes like those 
of Dolores it seemed- very old-fashioned and what she 
called ‘Spoked up.” The paper was ugly, the chimney- 
piece was a narrow, painted thing, of the same dull, 
stone-color as the door and the window-frame. And then 
the clear air, the perfect stillness, the absence of any- 
thing moving in the view from the window gave the city- 
bred child a sense of dreadful loneliness and dreariness as 
she sat on the side of her bed, with one foot under her, 
gazing dolefully round her, and in her head composing 
her ow’ii memoii's. 

“ Fully occupied with their own plans and amusements, 
the lonely orphan was left in solitude. Her aunt knew 
not how her heart ached after the home she had left, but 
the machine of the family went its own way and trod her 
under its wheels.” 

This was such a fine sentence that it was almost a com- 
fort, and she thought of writing it to Maude Sefton, but 
as she got up to fetch her writing-case from the school- 
room, she saw that her books were standing just in the 
way she did not like, and with all the volumes mixed up 
together. So she tumbled them all out of the shelves on 
the floor, and at that moment Mrs. Halfpenny looked into 
the room. 

Well, to be sure!” she exclaimed, when me and 
Lois have been working at them books all the morning.” 

They were all nohow — as I don’t like them,” said 
Dolores. 


40 


THE 'TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


Oh, very well, please yourself then, miss, if that’s all 
the thanks you have in your pocket, you may put them 
up your own way, for all I care. Only my lady will have 
the young ladies’ rooms kept neat and orderly, or they 
lose marks for it.” 

‘‘ I don’t want any help,” said Dolores, crossly, and 
Mrs. Halfpenny shut the door with a bang. ‘‘The 
menials are insulting me,” said Dolores to herself, and a 
tear came to her eye, while all the time there was a cer- 
tain mournful satisfaction in being so entirely the heroine 
of a book. 

She went to work upon her books, at first hotly and 
shai’iily, and very carefully putting the tallest in the 
center, so as to form a gradual ascent with the tops, and 
not for the world letting a second volume stand be- 
fore its elder brother; but she soon got tired, took to 
peeping at one or two parting gifts which she had not yet 
been able to read, and at last got quite absorbed in the 
sorrows of a certain Clai*e, whose golden hair w'as cut 
short by her wicked aunt, because it outshone her cousin’s 
sandy locks. There was reason to think that a tress of 
this same golden hair would lead to her recognition by 
some grandfather of unknown magnificence, as exactly 
like that of his long-lost Claribel, and this might result 
in her assuming splendors that would annihilate the 
aunt. Things seemed tending to a fracture of the ice 
under the cruelest cousin of all, and her rescue by Clare, 
when they would be carried senseless into the great house, 
and the recognition of Clare and the discomfiture of her 
foes would take place. How could Dolores shut the book 
at such a critical moment? 

So there she was, sitting in the midst of her scattered 
books, when the galloping and scampering began agnin, 
and Mysie knocked at the door, to tell her there were 
pears, apples, biscuits and milk in the dining-room, and 
that, after consuming them, lessons had to be learned for 
the next day, and then would follow amusements, evening 
toilet, seven o’clock tea, and either games or reading aloud 
till bed-time. As to the books, Mysie stood aghast. 

“I thought nurse and Lois had done them all for 
you.” 

“They did them all wrong, so I took them down.” 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


41 


“ Oh, dear! We must put them in, or there'll be a le- 
port.’’ 

A report!’’ 

‘‘ Yes, Nurse Halfpenny reports ns whenever she doesn’t 
find our rooms tidy, and then we get a had mark. Per- 
haps mamma wouldn’t give you one this first day, but it 
is best to make sure. Shall I help you, or you won’t have 
time to eat any pears?” 

Dolores was thankful for help, and the books were 
scrambled in anyhow on the shelves; for Mysie’s good 
nature was endangering her share of the afternoon’s 
gouter, though perhaps it consoled her that her curiosity 
was gratified by a hasty glance at the backs of her cousin’s 
story-books. 

By the time the two girls got down to the dining-table, 
every one had left the room, and there only remained one 
doubtful pear, and three baked apples, besides the loaf 
and the jug of milk. Mysie explained that not being a 
regular meal, no one was obliged to come i)unctually to 
it, or to come at all, but those who came tardily might 
fare the worse. As to the blackberries, for which Do- 
lores inquired, the girls were going to make jam of them 
themselves the next day; but Mysie added, with an effort, 
she would fetch some, as her cousin had had none in the 
gatheri ng. 

“Oh no, thank you; I hate blackberries,” said Do- 
lores, helping herself to an apple. 

“Do you?” said Mysie, blankly. “We don’t. They 
are such fun. You can’t think how delicious the great 
overhanging clusters are in the lane. Some were up so 
high that Hal had to stand up in the cart to reach them, 
and to take Fergus up on his shoulder. We never had 
such a blackberry ing as with mamma and Hal to help us. 
And only think, a great carriage came by, with some very 
grand people in it; we think it was the Dean; and they 
looked down the lane and stared, so surprised to see what 
great giant could be standing up there. Wilfred had a 
great mind to call out, ‘Fee, faw, fum.’ You know 
nothing makes such a good giant as Fergus standing on 
Hal’s shoulders, and a curtain over them to hide Hal’s 
facer Oh, dear, I wish I hadn’t told you! You would 
have been a new person to show it to.” 

Dolores made very little answer, finished her apple, and 


42 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


followed to the scbool-room, where an irregular verb, some 
geography, and some dates awaited her. 

Then followed another rush of the populace foi* the 
evening meal of the live stock, but in this Dolores was 
too wary to share. She made her way up to her retreat 
again, and tried to lose the sense of her troubles and. 
loneliness in a book. dTien came the warning bell, and 
a prodigious scuffling, racing and chasing, accompanied 
by yells as of terror and roars as of victory, all cut short 
by the growls of Mrs. Halfpenny. Everything then sub- 
sided. The world was dressing; Dolores dressed too, 
feeling hurt and forlorn at no one’s coming to help her, 
and yet worried when Mysie arrived with orders from 
Mrs. Halfpenny to come to her to have her sash tied. 

I think a servant ought to come to me. Caroline al- 
ways does,” said the only daughter with dignity. 

“ She can’t, for she is putting Primrose to bed. Oh, 
it’s so delicious to see Prim in her bath,” said Mysie, with 
a little skip. ‘‘Make haste, or we shall miss her, the 
darling.” 

Dolores did not feel pressed to behold the spectacle, 
and not being in the habit of dressing without assistance, 
she was tardy, and Mysie fidgeted about and nearly dis- 
tracted her. Thus, when she reached the nursery. Prim- 
rose was already in her little white bed-gown, and was 
being incited by Valetta to caper about on her cot, like a 
little acrobat, as her sisters said, while Mrs. Halfpenny 
declared that “they were making the child that ram- 
pagious, she should not get her sleep till midnight.” 

Tliey would have been turned out much sooner, and 
Primrose hushed into silence, if nurse’s soul had not been 
horrified by the state of Dolores’ hair and the general set 
of her garments. 

“ My certie!” she exclaimed — a dreadful exclamation in 
the eyes of the family, who knew it implied that in all her 
experience Mrs. Halfpenny had never known the like! 
And taking Dolores by the hand, she led the wrathful 
and indignant girl back into her bedroom, untied and 
tied, unbuttoned and buttoned, brushed and combed in 
spite of the second bell ringing, the general scamper, and 
the sudden apparition of Mysie and Val, whom she bade 
run away and tell her leddyship that “ Miss Mo/ioowe 
should come as soon as she was sorted, but she onjrht 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


43 


to come up early to have her hair looked to, for ’twas 
shame to see how thae fine London servants sorted a 
motherless bairn.” 

Dolores felt herself insulted; she turned red all over, 
with feelings the old Scotchwoman could not understand. 
She expected to hear the message roared out to the whole 
assembly round the tea-table, but Mysie had discretion 
enough to withhold her sister from making it public. 

The tea itself, though partaken of by Lady Merri field, 
seemed an indignity to the young lady accustomed to late 
dinners. After it, the whole family played at ‘‘dumb 
crambo.” Dolores was invited to join, and instructed to 
“ do the thing you think it is;” but she was entirely un- 
used to social games, and thought it only ridiculous and 
stupid when the word being a rhyme to Fergus gave 
rather too real a blow to Wilfred, and Gillian answered, 
“ ’Tis not smite;” Wilfred held out a hand, and was told, 
“’Tis not right;” Val flourished in the air as if holding a 
string, and was informed that “kite” was wrong; when 
Hal ran away as if pursued by Fergus by way of fliglit; 
and Mysie performed antics which she was finally obliged 
to explain were those of a sprite. Dolores could not 
recollect anything, and only felt annoyed at being made 
to feel stupid by such nonsense, when Mysie tried to 
make her a present of a suggestion by pointing to the back 
of a letter. Neither write nor white would come into her 
head, tiiough little Fergus signalized himself, just before 
he was swept off to bed, by seizing a pen and making 
strokes! 

After his departure. Lady Merrifield read aloud “The 
Old Oak Staircase,” which had been kept to begin when 
Dolores came, Hal taking the book in turn with his 
motlier. 

And so ended Dolores’ first day of banishment. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE FIRST WALK. 

“ What a lot of letters for you, mamma!” cried Mysie. 
“ Papa!” exclaimed Fergus and Primrose. 

“ No, it is not the right day, my dears. But here is a 
letter from Aunt Ada.” 


44 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


‘•Oh!” in u different tone. 

“ She writes for Aunt Jane. They will come down 
here next Monday because Aunt Jane is wanted to address 
the girls at the G. F, S. festival on Tuesday.” 

“ Aunt Jane seems to have taken to public speaking,” 
said Harry. “ It would be rather a lark to hear her.” 

“ You may have a chance,” said Lady Merrifield, “for 
here is a note from Mrs. Blackburn to ask if I will be so very 
kind as to let them have the festival here. Tiiey had reck- 
oned upon Tillington Park, where they have always had 
it before, but they hear that all the little Tillingtcns have 
the measles, and they donT think it safe to venture there.” 

“ It will be great iun!” said Gillian. “We will have 
all sorts of games, only Pm afraid, they will be much 
stupider than the Irish girls.” 

“ And ever so much stupider than the dear 111th chil- 
dren,” sighed Mysie. 

“Aren’t they all great big girls?” asked Valetta, dis- 
consolately. 

•‘ I believe twelve years old is the limit,” said her 
mother. “Twelve-year-old girls have plenty of play in 
them, Val. Haven’t they, Mysie? Let me see — two hun- 
dred and thirty of them.” 

“ For you to feast?” asked Harry. 

“ Oh. no; that cost comes out of their own funds, Mrs. 
Blackburn takes care to tell me, and Miss Hacket will 
find some one in Silverfold who will provide tables and 
forms and crockery. I must go down and talk to Miss 
Hacket as soon as lessons are over; or perhaps it would 
save time and trouble if I wrote and asked her to come up 
to luncheon and see the capabilities of the place. Why, 
what’s the matter?” pausing at the blank looks. 

“The jam, mamma — the blackberry jam!” cried Va- 
letta. 

“ Well?” 

“ We can’t do it without Gill, and she will have to be 
after that Miss Constance,” explained Yal. 

“ Oh! never mind. She won’t stay all the afternoon,” 
said Gillian, cheerfully. “ Luncheon people don’t.” 

“Yes, but then there will be lessons to be learned.” 

“ Look here, Val,” said Gillian; “if you and Mysie will 
learn your lessons for to-morrow while I’m bound to Miss 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


45 


Con., ril do mine some time in the evening, and bo free 
for tlie jam when she is gone.” 

‘‘The dear delicious jam!” cried Val, springing about 
upon her chair; and Lady Merrifield further said : 

“ I wonder wliether Mysie and Dolores would like to 
take the note down? They could bring back a message 
by word of mouth.” 

“ Oh, thank you, mamma!” cried JMysie. 

“Then I wilf write the note as soon as we have done 
breakfast. Don’t dawdle, Fergus boy.” 

“ Mayn’t 1 go?” demanded Wilfred. 

“ No, my dear. It is your mornitig with Mr. Poulter. 
And you must take care not to come back' later than 
eleven, Mysie dear; I can not have him kept waiting. 
Dolores, do you like to go?” 

Yes, please,” said Dolores, partly because it was at 
any rate gain to escape from that charity-school lesson in 
the morning, and partly because Valetta was looking at 
her in the ardent hope that she would refuse the privilege 
of the walk, and it therefore became valuable; but there 
was so little alacrity in her voice that her aunt asked her 
whether she were quite rested and really liked the walk, 
which would be only half a mile to the outskirts of the 
town. 

Dolores hated personal inquiries beyond everything, and 
replied that she was quite well, and didn’t mind. 

So soon as she and Mysie had finished they were sent off 
to get ready, while Aunt Lilias wrote her note in pencil 
at the corner of the table, which she never left, while 
Fergus and Primrose were finishing their meal; but she 
had to silence a storm at the “didn’t mind” — Gillian 
even venturing to ask how she could send one to wliom it 
was evidently no pleasure to go. “I think slie likes it 
more than she shows,” said the mother, “and siie wants 
air, and will settle to her lessons the better for it. What’s 
that, Val?” 

“It was my turn, mamma,” said Valetta, in an in- 
jured voice. 

“ It will be your turn next, Val,” said her mother, 
cheerfully. “ Dolores comes between you and Mysie, so 
she must take her place accordingly. And to-day we 
grant her the privilege of the new-comer.” 

Dolores would have esroemed the privilege more, if. 


4G 


THE T^yO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


wliile she was going upstairs to i)ut on her hat, the I'ecol- 
lection had not dccnrred to lier of one of the victim’s of 
an aunt’s cruelty, who was always made to run on errands 
while her favored cousins were at their studies. Was this 
the beginning? Somehow, though her better senses knew 
this was a foolish fancy, she had a secret pleasure in pity- 
ing herself, and posing to herself as a persecuted heroine. 
And then she was greatly fretted to find the house' maid 
in her room, looking as if no one else had any business 
there. What was worse, she could not find her jacket. 
She pulled out all her drawers with fierce, noisy jerks, 
and then turned round on the maid, shai^ily demanding: 

Who has taken my jacket?” 

I’m sure I don’t know. Miss Dollars. You’d best ask 
Mrs. Halfpenny.” 

‘‘li — ” but at that moment Mysie ran in, holding the 
jacket in her hand. I saw it in the nursery,” she said, 
triumphantly. Nurse had taken it to mend! Come 
along. Where’s your hat?” 

But there was pursuit; Mrs. Halfpenny was at the door. 

Young ladies, you are not going out of the policy in that 
fashion.” 

Mamma sent us. Mamma wants us to take a note in 
a hurry. Only to Miss Hacket,” pleaded Mysie, as Mrs. 
Halfpenny laid violent hands on her brown holland jacket, 
observing: 

“My leddy never bade ye run off in air like a wild 
worricow than a general officer’s daughter. Miss Mysie. 
What’s that? Only Miss Hacket, d o you say? You 
should respeck yourself and them you come of mail* than 
to show yourself to a blind beetle in an unbecoming wav. 
’Tis well that there’s one in the house that knows wliat is 
befitting. Miss Dollars, you stand still; I must sort your 
necktie before you go. ’I'is all of a wisp. Miss Mysie, 
you tell your mamma that I should be fain to know her 
pleasure about Miss Dollars’ frocks. She’ve scarce got 
one — colored or mourning — that don’t want altering.” 

j\rrs. Halfpenny always caused Dolores such extreme 
astonishment and awe that she obeyed her instantly, but 
to be turned about and tidied by an authoritative liand 
was extremely disagreeable to tiie independent voung 
lady. Caroline had never treated her thus, being more 
willing to permit untidiness than to endure her temper. 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 47 

She only durst, after the })air were released, remonstrate 
with ]\Iysie on being termed Miss Dollars. 

“ They can’t make out your name,” said Mysie. “I 
tried to Leach Lois, but nurse said she had no notion of 
new-fangled nonsense names.” 

I’m sure Valetta and Primrose are worse.” 

‘^Ah! but Yal was born at Malta, and mamma had 
always loved the Grand Master La Yalette so much, and 
had written verses about him when she was only sixteen. 
And Primrose was named after the first ])rimrose mamma 
liad seen for twelve years — the first one Yal and I had ever 
seen.” 

They called me Miss Moliun at home.” 

Yes, but we can’t here, because of Aunt Jane.” 

All this was chattered forth on the stairs before the two 
girls reached the dining-room, where Mysie committed 
the feeding of her pets to Yal, and received the note, with 
fresh injunctions to come home by eleven, and bring word 
whether Miss Jlacket and Miss Constance would both 
come to luncheon. 

^‘Oh, dear!” sighed Gillian, and there was a general 
groan round the table. 

‘^It can’t be helped, my dear.” 

^^Oh, no, I know it can’t,” said Gillian, resignedly. 

‘^You see,” said Mysie. ‘‘ Yes, come along, Basto, 
dear. You see Gill has to be — down, Basto, I say!— a 
3’oung lady when — Never mind him, Dolores, ho won’t 
hurt. When Miss Constance Hacket and — leave her alone, 
Basto, I say!— and she is such a goose. Not you, Dolores, 
but Miss Constance.” 

“ Oh, that dog! I wish you would not take him.” 

“ Not take dear old Basto! Why ’tis such a treat for 
him to get a walk in the morning — the delight of his 
jolly old black heart. Isn’t he a dear old fellow? and he 
never hurt anybody in his life! It’s only setting off! He 
will quiet down in a minute; but I couldn’t disappoint 
him. Could I, my old man?” 

Never having lived with animals nor entered into their 
feelings, Dolores could not understand how a dog's pleas- 
ure could be preferred to her comfort, and felt a good 
deal liurt, though Basto’s antics subsided as soon as they 
were past the inner gate shutting in the garden from the 


48 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


jniddock, which was let out to a farmer. Mysie, how- 
ever, ran on as usual with her stream of information — 
Ti)e Miss Hackets were sisters or daughters or some- 
thing to some old inan who used to be clergyman here, 
and they are all married up but these two, and they’ve 
got tlie dearest little house you ever saw. They had a 
nephew in the 111th, and so they came and called on us at 
once. Miss Racket is a regular old dear, but we none of 
us can bear Miss Constance, except that mamma says we 
ought to be sorry for her because she leads such a confined 
life. Miss Racket and Aunt Jane always do go on se 
about the G.F.S. They are both branch secretaries, you 
know.” 

I know. Aunt Jane did bother Mrs. Sefton so, that 
she says she will never have another of those G.F.S. girls. 
She says it is a society for interference.” 

‘‘Mamma likes it,” said Mysie. 

“Oil! but she is only just come.” 

“ Yes; but she always looked after the school children 
at Beechcroft before she married, and she and Alethea 
and Phyllis had the soldiers’ children up on Sunday. 
Alethea taught the little drummer boys, and they were so 
funny. I wonder who teaches them now! -Gill always goes 
down to help Miss Racket with her G.F.S. classes. She 
has one on Sunday afternoon, and one on Tuesday for 
sewing, and she likes to have Gill for that, because she 
says she is the only young lady in the place cun do plain 
needle-work properly.” 

“Sewing-machines can work. What’s the use of fuss- 
ing about it!” 

“They can’t mend,” said Mysie. “Besides, do you 
know, in the American war, all the sewing-machines in 
the Southern Slates got out of order, and as all the ma- 
chinery people were in the North, the poor ladies didn’t 
know what to do, and. couldn’t work without them.” 

“Sewing-machines are a recent invention,” said 
Dolores, 

“ Oh! you didn’t think I meant the great old War of 
Independence. No, I meant the war about the slaves — 
secession they called it.” 

“4'liat is not in the history of England,” said Dolores, 
as if Mysie had no business to look beyond. 

“Why! of course not, when it happened in America. 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


49 


Papa told ns about it. He read it in some paper, I think. 
Don’t you like learning things in that way?” 

‘‘Iso. I don’t approve of irregular unsystematic 
knowledge.” 

Dolores had heard her mother say something of this 
kind, and it came into her head most opportunely as a 
defense of her father — for she would not for tlie world 
have confessed that he did not talk to her as Sir Jasper 
Merrifield seemed to have done to his children. In 
fact she rather despised the general for so doing. 

“ Oh! but it is such fun picking up things out of les- 
son time!” said Mysie. 

“ That is the Edge — ” Dolores was not sure of the 
word Edgeworthian, so she went on to the “ system. 
Professor Sefton says he does not approve of harassing 
children with cramming them with irregular information 
at all sorts of times. Let play be play and lessons be les- 
sons, he says, not mixed up together, and so Rex and 
Maude never learned anything — not a letter — till they were 
seven years old.” 

“ How stupid!” cried Mysie. 

“Maude’s not stupid!” cried Dolores, “nor the pro- 
fessor either! She’s my great friend.” 

“ I didn’t say she was stupid,” said Mysie, apologetical- 
ly, “ only that it must be very stupid not to be able to 
read till one was seven. Could you?” 

“ Oh, yes. I can’t remember when I couldn’t read. 
But Maude used to play with a little girl who could read 
and talk French at five years old, and she died of water 
upon the brain.” 

“ Dear me! Primrose can read quite well,” said Mysie, 
somewhat alarmed; “but then,” she went on in a reas- 
sured voice, “ so could all of us except Jasper and Gilli- 
an, and they felt the heat so much at Gibraltar that they 
were quite stupid while they were there.” 

This discussion brought the two girls across the pad- 
dock out into a road with a broad, neat footpath, where 
numerous little children were being exercised with nurses 
and perambulators. At first it was bordered by fields on 
either side, but villas soon began to spring up, and pres- 
ently the girls reached what looked like a long, low “ cot- 
tage residence,” but was really two, witli a veranda along 
the front, and a garden divided in the middle by a paling 


50 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


covered witli cnnary nasturtinm shrubs. The verauda 
on one side was hung with a rich purple pall of the dark 
clematis, on the other by a gloire de Dijon rose. There 
were bright flower-beds, and tlie dormer windows over the 
veranda looked like smiling eyes under their deep brows 
of creeper-trimmed verge-board. What London- bred 
Dolores saw was a sight that sliocked her — a lady stand- 
ing unbonneted just beyond the veranda, talking to a 
girl whose black hat and jacket looked like what Mvsie 
called very G.F.S.-y.’’ 

The lady did not turn out to be young or beautiful. 
She was near middle age, and looked as if she were far too 
busy to be ever plump; she had a very considerable 
amount of nose, and rather thin, dark hair, done in a 
fashion which, like that of her navy blue linen dress, 
looked perfectly antiquated to Dolores. As she saw the 
two girls at the gate she came down the path esgerly to 
welcome them. 

Ah! my dear Mysie! so kind of your dear mother! I 
thought I should hoar from her.’’ And as she kissed 
Mysie, she added: “And this is the new cousin. My 
dear, 1 am glad to see you here.” 

Dolores thought her own, diguihed manner had kept off 
a kiss, not knowing that Miss Hacket was far too lady-like 
to bo overfamiliar, and that there was no need to put on 
such a forbidding look. 

Mysie gave her message and note, but Miss Hacket could 
not give the verbal answer at once till she had consulted 
her sister. She was not sure whether Constance had not 
made an engagement to play lawn-tennis, so they must 
come in. 

There sounded “coo-roo-oo coo-roo-oo” in the veranda, 
and Mysie cried: 

“ Oh, the dear doves!” 

Hacket said she had been just feeding tliem when 
the G.F.S. girl arrived, and as Mysie came to a halt in 
delight at the aspect of a young one that had just crept 
out into public life, the sister was called to the window. 
She was a great deal younger and more of the present day 
in style than her sister, and had pensive- looking gray 
eyes, with a somewhat bored, languid manner as she 
shook hands with tlie early visitors. 

The sisters had a little consultation over the note, clur- 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


51 


ing which Dolores stiulieh them, and Mysie studied the 
doves, longing to see the curious process of feeding tlie 
young ones. 

When Miss Hacket turned back toiler with the accept- 
ance of the invitation, she thought she might wait just 
to help ^liss Hacket to put in the corn and the sop. Mean- 
time Miss Constance talked to Dolores. 

Did you arrive yesterday?’’ 

‘^No, the day before.” 

Ah! it must be a great change to you.” 

Indeed it is.” 

This must be the dullest place in England, I think,” 
said Miss Constance, “'^o variety, no advantages of any 
kind! And have not you lived in London?” 

^^Yes.” 

‘‘That is my ambition! I once spent six weeks in 
London, and it was an absolute revelation — the opening of 
another world. And I understand that Mr. Maurice 
Mohun is such a clever man, and that you saw a great deal 
of his friends.” 

“ I used,” said Dolores, thinking of those days of her 
mother when she was the pet and plaything of the guests, 
incited to say clever and pert things, which then were 
passed round and embellished till she neither knew them 
nor comprehended them. 

“That is what I pine for!” exclaimed Miss Constance. 
“ Nobody here has any ideas. You can’t conceive how 
borne and prejudiced every one is! It will be quite a de- 
light to have some one here who is used to something 
better! Don’t yon love art needlework?” 

“ Maude Sefton has been working Goosey Goosey Gan- 
der on a toilet-cover.” 

“ Oil! how sweet! We never get any new patterns here! 
Do come in and see, I don’t know which to take; I 
brought three beginnings home to choose from, and I am 
quite undecided.” 

“ Mrs. Sefton draws her own patterns,” said Dolores. 
“ Sometimes she gets ideas from Lorenzo Dellman— he’s 
an artist, you know, and a regular aesthete! He made her 
do a dado" all sunflowers last year, but they are a little 
gone out now, and are very staring besides, and I think 
she will have some nymphs dancing among alrnond-trees 
ill blue vases instead, as soon as she has designed it.” 


52 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


‘‘Isn’t that lovely! Oh! what would I not give for 
such opportunities? Do let me have your opinion.” 

So Dolores went in with her, and looked at three patterns, 
one of tall daisies; anotlier of odd-looking doves, one on 
each side of a red Etruscan vase, where the water must 
have been as much out of their reach as that in tlie pitch- 
er was beyond the crow’s; and a third, of Little Bo 
Peep. Having given her opinion in favor of Bo Peep, 
she was taken upstairs to inspect the young lady’s store 
of crewels, and choose the colors. 

Dolores neither knew nor cared anything about fancy 
work, but to be treated as an authority was quite sooth- 
ing, and she fully believed that the mere glimpses she 
had had of Mrs. Sefton’s work and the shop windows, en- 
abled her to give great enlightenment to this poor country 
mouse; so she gladly went to the bedroom, with a muslin- 
worked toilet-cover, "embroidered curtains, plates fastened 
against the wall, and table all over knickknacks, which 
Miss Constance called her little den, where she could 
study beauty after her own bent, vvdiile her sister Mary 
was wholly engrossed with the useful, and could endure 
nothing but the prose of the last century. 

Meantime Mysie had forgotten how time flew in her 
belief that in one minute more the young doves would 
want to be fed, and then in amusement at seeing them 
pursue their parents with low squeaks and flutterings, 
watching, too, the airs and graces, bowing, cooing, and 
laughing of the old ones. When at last she was startled 
by hearing eleven struck, there had to be a great hunt 
for Dolores in the drawing-room and garden, and when 
at last Miss Hacket’s calls for her sister brouglit the two 
down-stairs more than ten minutes had passed! Mysie 
was too much dismayed, and in too great a hurry to do 
anything but cry, Come along, Dolores,” and set off at 
such a gallop as to scandalize the Londoner, even when 
Mysie recollected that it was too public a place for running, 
and slackened her pace. Dolores was soon gasping, and 
with a stitch in her side. Mysie would have exclaimed, 
“ What were you doing with Miss Constance?” but breatli- 
lessness happily prevented it. The way across the paddock 
seemed endless, and Mysie was chafed at having to hold back 
for her companion, who panted in distress, leaned against 
a tree, declared she could not go on, she did not care, and 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


53 


then, when Mysie set off running, was seized with fright 
at being left alone in this vast unknown space, cried after 
her and made a rush, soon ending in sobbing breath. 

At last they were at the door, and Wilfred just coining 
out of the dining-room greeted them with, A quarter to 
twelve. Won’t you catch it? Oh, my!” 

“ Are they come?” said Lady Merrifield, looking out of 
the school-room. My dear children! Did Miss Hacket 
keep you?” 

'‘No, mamma,” gasped Mysie. “At least it was my 
fault for watching the doves.” 

“Ah! M3^sie, I must not send you on a message next 
time. Mr. Foul ter has been waiting these twenty min- 
utes, and I am afraid you are not fit to take a lesson now. 
Dolores looks quite done up! I shall send you both to 
lie down on your beds and learn your poetry for an hour. 
And you must write an apology to Mr. Poulter this after- 
noon. No, don’t go in now. Go up at once, Gillian shall 
bring your books. Does Miss Hacket corner” 

“ Yes, mamma,” said Mysie humbly, looking at Do- 
lores all the time. She was too generous to say that part 
of the delay had been caused by looking for her cousin 
and having to adapt her pace to the slower one, but 
she decidedly expected the avowal from Dolores, and 
thought it meant not to make it. “And, oh, the jam!"' 
she mourned as she went upstairs. While, on the other 
hand, Dolores cons-idered what she called “being sent to 
bed ” an unmerited and unjust sentence given without a 
hearing; when their tardiness had been all Mysie’s fault, not 
hers. She had no notion that her aunt only sent them to 
lie down, because they looked heated, tired, and spent, 
and was really letting them off their morning’s lessons. 
It was a pity that she felt too forlorn and sullen even to 
complain when Gillian brought up Macaulay’s “ Armada ” 
for her to learn the first twelve lines, or she might have 
come to an understanding, but all that was elicited from 
her was a glum “ No,” when asked if she knew it alread}^ 
Gillian told her not to keep her dusty boots on the bed, 
and she vouchsafed no answer, for she did not consider 
Gillian her mistress, though, after she was left to herself, 
she found them so tight and hot that she took them off. 
Then she looked over the verses rather contemptuously — 
she who always learned German poetry; and she had a great 


54 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


mind to assert her independence by getting off the bed. 
and writing a letter to Maude Sefton, describing the luir- 
row stupidity of the whole family, and how her aunt,. 
Avithout hearing her, had sent her to bed for Mysie’s 
fault. However she felt so shaky and tired that slie 
thought she had better rest a little first, and somehow she 
fell fast asleep, and was only awakened by the gong. She 
jumped u]) in haste, recollecting that the delightful sym- 
pathizing Miss Constance was coming to luncheon, and 
set her hair and dress to rights eagerly, observing, liow- 
ever, to herself, that her horrid aunt was quite capable of 
imprisoning her all the time for not having learned that 
stupid poetry. 

She hesitated a little where to go when she reached the 
hall, but the school-room door was open, and she heard a 
mournful voice concluding with a gasp — 


“ ‘ Oiir glorious semper eadem, the banner of our pride.’ ” 

And Miss Vincent saying, Now, my dear, go and wash 
your face, and try not to be such a dismal spectacle.’^ 

And then Mysie came out, with heavy eyes and a mot- 
tled face, showing that she had been crying all the time 
she had been learning, over her own fault certainly, but 
likewise over mamma’s displeasure and Dolly’s shabbiness. 

Well, Dora,” said Miss Vincent, "Miave you come to 
repeat your poetry?” 

'‘No,” said Dolores. " I went to sleep instead.” 

“Oil! I’m glad of that. I wish poor Mysie had done 
the same. I believe it Avas what Lady Merrifield intended, 
you both looked so knocked up.” 

Dolores cleared up a little at this, especially as Miss 
Vincent was no relation, and she tliought it a good time 
to make her protest against mere English. 

“ Oh!” she said. “I suppose that was the reason she 
gave me such a stupid, childish, sing-song nursery rhyme 
to learn. 1 can say lots of Schiller and some Gokhe.” 

“ 1 advise you not to let any one hear you call Macau- 
lay’s i^oem a nursery rhyme, or it miglit nev'er be forgot- 
ten,” said Miss Vincent, gayly. Then, seeing the cloud 
return to Dolores’ face, she added, “ You have been 
brought foi’Avard in German, I see. Wo must try to bring 
your knowledge of English literature up to be even Avith 
it.” 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


55 


Dolores liked this better than anything she had vet 
heard, chiefly because she had learned from her books that 
governesses were not uniformly so cruel as aunts. And, 
besides, she felt that she had been spared a public hu- 
miliation. 

By this time the guests were ringing at the door, and 
Miss Vincent, witli her hat on, only waiting till their en- 
trance was made to depart. Dolores asked whether to go 
into the drawing-room, and was told that Lady Merrifield 
preferred that the children should only appear in the 
dining-room on the sound of the gong, wliich was not 
long in being heard. 

The Merriflelds were trained not to chatter when there 
was company at table; besides, Mysie and Val were in low 
spirits about the chance of the blackberry cookery. Miss 
Hacketsaton one side of Lady Merrifield, and talked about 
what associates had answered her letters and what villages 
would send contingents of girls, and it sounded very dull 
to the young people. Miss Constance was next to Hal. 
She looked amiable and sympathetic at Dolores on the op- 
posite side of the table, but discussed lawn-tennis tourna- 
ments with her neighbor, which was quite as little inter- 
esting to the general public as was the (x.F.S. However, 
as soon as Primrose had said grace Lady Merrifield pro- 
posed to take Miss Hacket down to the stable- yard, and 
the whole train followed, excepting the two girls, who 
trusted Hal to see whether their pets would suffer incon- 
venience. However, it soon was made evident to Gillian 
that she was not wanted, and that Dolores and Constance 
had no notion of wandering about the paved courts and 
bare coach-houses, among tlie dogs and cats, guinea-pigs 
and fowls. Indeed, Constance, who was at least seven 
years older than Gillian, and a full-blown young lady, dis- 
missed her by saying that she was going to see Miss 
Moll nil’s books.” 

‘^Oh, certainly,” said Gillian, in a voice as though she 
were rather surprised, though much relieved. 

So off the friends went together — for of course they 
were to be friends. The Miss Mohun had been uttered 
in a tone that clearly meant to be asked to drop it, so 
they were to be Dolores and Constance henceforth, if not 
Dolly and Con. Dolores was such a lovely name that 
Constance could not mangle it, and was sure there was 


56 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


sorno reason for it. The girl had, in fact, been named 
after a Spanish lady, whom her mother had known and 
admired in early girlhood, and to whom she had made a 
promise of naming her first daughter after her. No doubt 
Dolores did not know that Mrs. Mohun had regretted the 
childish promise which she had felt bound to keep in 
spite of her husband’s dislike to the name, which he 
declared would be a misfortune to the child. 

Dolores was really proud of its peculiarity, and de- 
lighted to have any one to sympathize with her, in that 
and a great deal besides, which she communicated to her 
new friend in the window-seat of her room. When the 
two ladies went home, Constance told her sister that 

dear liitle Dolores was a remarkable character, sadly 
misunderstood among those commonplace people, the 
Merrifields, and unjustly used, too, and she should da 
her best for her!” 

Meantime Gillian, finding herself not wanted, had re- 
paired to the school-room. 

‘‘ Oh, it is of no use,” sighed Mysie, disconsolately. 
“I’ve ever so much morning’s work to make up, too. 
And I never shall! I’ve muzzled my head!” 

By which remarkable expression Mysie signified that 
fatigue, crying, and dinner had made her brains dull and 
heavy; but Gillian was a sensible elder sister. 

“ Don’t try your sum yet, then,” she said. “ Practice 
your scales for half an hour, while I d© my algebra, and 
then we’ll go over your German verbs together. I’ll tell 
Miss Vincent, and she won’t mind, and I think mamma 
will be })leased if you try.” 

Gillian was too much used to noises not to be able to 
work an equation, and prepare her Virgil, to the sound 
of scales, and Mysie was a good deal restored by them 
and by hope. 

So when at length Constance had been summoned by 
her sister, who tore herself away from the arrangements, 
being bound to five o’clock tea elsewhere, Mysie was discov- 
ered with a face still rather woe-begone, but hopeful and 
persevering, and though there still was a “bill of par- 
cels ” where Ilf lbs. of mutton at 13fJ. per lb. refused 
to come right. Lady Merrifield kissed her, said she had 
been a diligent child, and sent her off prancing in bliss to 
the old “ still-room ” stove, where they were allowed a 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


5T 

fii-e, basins, spoons, and strainers, and where the sugar 
lay in a snowy heap, and the blackberries in a sanguine 
pile. 

'‘There’s partiality!” thought Dolores, and scowled, 
as she stood at the front door still gazing after Constance. 

“Won’t you come, Dolly?” said Mysie. “ Or haven’t 
you learned your lessons?” 

“No,” said Dolly, making one answer serve for both 
questions. 

“ Oh! then you can’t. Shall I ask mamma to let you 
off?” 

“No, I don’t care. I don’t like messes! And what’s 
the use if you haven’t a cookery class?” 

“It’s such fun,” said Val. 

“And our sisters did go to a cookery class at Dublin 
and taught Gill,” added Mysie, 

“ But if you haven’t done your lessons, you cant’ go,” 
said Valetta, decidedly. 

Off they went, and Lady Merrifield presently crossed 
tlie liall, and saw Dolores’ attitude. 

“ My dear, are you waiting to say those verses?” she 
said kindly. 

“ I hadn’t time to learn them, I went to sleep,” said 
Dolores. 

“ A very good thing too, my dear. Suppose we go over 
them together.” 

Aunt Lilias took the unwilling hand, led Dolores into 
the school-room, and for half an hour she went over the 
verses with her, explaining what was new to the girl, and 
vividly describing the agitation of Plymouth, and the 
flocks of people thronging in. “I must show her that I 
will be minded, but I will make it pleasant to her, poor 
child,” siie thought. 

And it could not have been otherwise than pleasant to 
her, but that siie was reflecting all tiiis time that she was 
being punished while Mysie was enjoying herself. There- 
fore she put the lid on her intellect, and was inconceiv- 
ably stupid. 


58 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 


CHAP'FER VI. 

PEliSECUTIOlSr. 

On Monday afternoon Dolores was sitting at the end of 
the long garden-walk, u})on a green garden-bench, witii a 
crocodile’s head and tail roughly carved. Tiie sliouts of 
the others were audible in the distance beyond the belt of 
trees. Aunt Lily had driven into town to meet her sis- 
teis, taking Fergus with her, whereas Dolores had never 
been out in the carriage. There was partiality! Though^ 
to be sure, Fergus was to have a tooth out! Harry and 
Gillian were playing with the I’est, and she had been in- 
vited to join, but she had made answer that she hated 
iom])iiig, and on being assured that no romping was nec- 
essary, slie replied that she only wanted to read in peace. 
She liad refused the Thorn Fortress,” wiiich she was 
told would explain the game, and had hunted out “ Clare; 
or, No Horne,” to compare her lot with that of the home- 
less one. 

Certainly, she had not yet been sent to bed with a box 
on the ear because a countess had shown symptoms of no- 
ticing her more than her ugly, overdressed cousins. But 
then Aunt Lily would not allow her to walk down alone 
to the Casement Villas to see dear Constance, and would 
let that farmer kee}) all those dreadful cows in the pad- 
dock, so that even going escorted was a terror to her. 

Nor had her handsome mourning been taken from her 
and old clothes of her cousins substituted for it. No, 
but she liad been cruelly pulled about between Mrs. Half- 
penny and the Silverton dress-maker with a mouthful of 
pins; and Aunt Lily had insisted on her dress being trim- 
med with velvet, instead of the jingling jet she preferred. 

Did they intercept her letters? kSIic had had one from 
her father, sent from Falmouth, but only one from Maude 
Sefton in ten days! Moreover, she had one from Con-, 
stance in her apron pocket, aiudved that very afternoon, 
asking her to come down with Gillian on the Sundays, 
that the friends might enjoy themselves together while 
the classes were going on; but she made sure that all were 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


59 


SO jealous of her friendship with Constance tliafc no con- 
sent would be given. 

Siie did not hear or notice the wliisperings in the laurels 
behind her — 

*CDo you see that sulky old Croat, smoking his pipe 
under the tree?” 

^‘No, he is a Black Brunswicker.” 

^‘Nonsense, Willie; the Black Brunswickers weren’t 
till Bonaparte’s time.” 

“ I don’t care, he is anything black and nasty; here 
goes!” 

“ Oh, stop; don’t shoot. I believe he is only a vivan- 
diera. Besides, it is treacherous — ” 

“ I tell you he is laying a train to blow up the tower. 
There !” 

An arrow struck the bench beside Dolores, who, more 
angry than she had ever been in her life, snatched it up, 
unheedinr that it had no point to speak of, rushed head- 
long in pursuit, while, with a tremendous shout, Valetta 
and Wilfred flew before her to a waste overgrown place at 
the end of the kitchen-garden. 

We’ve shot a Croat!” 

No, a Black Brunswicker.” 

‘‘Oh, ah! They are coming — the enemy! Into the 
fortress! Bar the wolfs passage!” 

And as Dolores struggled through the bushes, she saw 
the whole family dashing into an outhouse, and the door 
slammed. She pushed against it, but an unearthly com- 
pound of howls, yells, shouts, and bangs replied: 

“Gillian! Harry, I say,” she cried, in great anger; 
“ come out, I want to speak to you.” 

But her voice was lost in the war-whoops within, and 
the louder she knocked, the louder grew the din, till she 
walked off, swelling with grief and indignation. Mysie, 
after all her professions of friendship, to use her in this 
way! And Harry and Gillian, who should have kept the 
others within bounds! 

Slowly she crossed the lawn, just as Lady Merri field, 
.the other two aunts, and Fergus, all came out from the 
glass door of the drawing-room. Aunt Jane, a trim little 
dark-eyed woman, looking at two-and-forty much the 
same as she might have done at five-and-twenty ; and Aunt 
Adeline, pretty and delicately fair, with somewhat of the 


60 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


same grace as Lady Merrifield, but more languor, and an 
air as if everytliing about her were for effect. Though 
not specially fond of these aunts, Dolores was glad to have 
them as wiLiesses of her ill-usage. 

“There stands Dolly, like a statue of "Diana, dart in 
hand,’’ exclaimed Aunt Adeline. 

“Yes,” said Dolores; “I wish to know, Aunt Lilias, 
if Wilfred and Valetta are to call me names, and shoot 
arrows at me?” 

“ What do you mean, my dear?” 

“They came at me while I was sitting quietly reading 
— there — and shot at me, and called me such horrid 
names I can’t repeat them, and ran away. Then the 
others, Gillian, and Harry, and all, would not listen to 
me, but shut themselves up in an out-house, and shouted 
at me.” 

“I think there must be some mistake, Dolores,” said 
her aunt. “ Where are they?” 

“ Out beyond there,” said Dolores, pointing in the 
direction in which Fergus was running. 

Lady Merrifield set off with her, and the other two 
ladies followed more slowly. 

“1 thought it would not do,” said Aunt Jane. 

“Lily’s children are so rough,” added Aunt Adeline. 

“ I am not so sure that the fault is theirs,” was the re- 
ply. “She is a priggish little puss, who wants shaking 
up.” 

“Ah! here comes the hordes,” sighed Adeline, shrink- 
ing a little, as the entire population, summoned by Fer- 
gus, came pouring forth to meet the advancing mother, 

“How is this, Wilfred? Have you been shooting ar- 
rows at your cousin?” 

Mamma!” cried Valetta, indignantly, “ he did not 
shoot at her; he only pretended, and shot the old croco- 
dile-bench. He never meant any more. It was only 
play.” 

“ Have you not been forbidden to shoot in the direction 
of any person?” 

“Nor I didn’t,” said AVilfred. “ I only shot the croco- 
dile. I never tried to hit her. She is quite big enough 
to miss.” 

“ And she did look such a nice Croat, mamma,” added 
Valetta. “AVewere scouts out of the Thorn Fortress, 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


61 


Willie and I, and it was such a jolly dodge to steal upon 
one of the enemy.’’ 

“You should have warned her.” 

“ Then it would not have been a surprise,” said Val, 
seriously. 

“ Was she not at play with you?” 

“No, mamma,” said Mysie. “We asked her, and she 
would not. I say,” pausing in consternation, “ Dolores, 
was it you that came and called at tlie door of the Wolf’s 
passage?” 

“ Of course. I wanted to show Gillian how Wilfred be- 
haved to me.” 

“ I thouglit it was Fergus come home to be the enemy.” 

“Didn’t you know her voice?” asked the mother. 

“ We were all making such a noise ourselves in the 
dark,” said Gillian, “that there was no hearing any one; 
and Primrose was rather frightened, so tliat Hal was at- 
tending to her. Indeed, Dolores, I am very soryy. If we 
had guessed that it was you, we would have opened the 
door at once, and then you would have known that it 
was all fun and play, and not have troubled mamma about 
it.” 

“ Wilfred and Valetta knew,” said Dolores, rather sul- 
lenly. 

“ Oh! but it was such fun,” said Val. 

“ It was fun that became unkindness on your part,” said 
her mother. “ You ought not to have kept it up without 
warning to her. And what do I hear about names? I 
hope that was also misunderstanding of the game. What 
did you call her?” 

“Only a Croat,” said Valetta, indignantly;^ “and a 
Black Brunswicker.” 

“ Was that it, Dolores?” 

“'Perha})s,” she muttered, disconcerted by a laugh from 
her Aunt Jane. 

*'* I do not know what you took them for,” Siiid Lady 
Merrifield, “ but you see some part of this trouble arose 
from a mistake on your part. Now, Wilfred and Valetta, 
remember tliat it is not right to force a person into play 
against her will. And as to the shooting near, but not at- 
her, you both know perfectly well that it is forbidden. 
So give me your bow, Wilfred. I shall keepit for a week, 
that you may remember obedience.” 


62 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


WilfrecJ looked sullen, but obeyed. Dolores could not 
call her aunt unjust, but as she looked round, slie met 
glances tliat made her think it prudent to shelter herself 
among the elders. Aunt Jane asked what the game was. 

*‘ *'rhe Thorn Fortress/’’ said Gillian. It comes 
out of that deligntful S.P.C.K. book, so called, where, 
in the ‘ Thirty Years’ War,’ all the ])eople of a village 
took refuge from the soldiers in a field in the middle of 
a forest guarded by a tremendous hedge of thorns. Yal 
had it for a birthday present, and the children have been 
acting it ever since.” 

‘‘It has quite put out the Desert Island passion, which 
used to be a regular stage in these children’s lives. Every 
voyage w’e have taken, somebody has come to ask whether 
there was any hope of being wrecked on one.” 

“ Fergus even asked when we crossed from Dublin,” 
said Gillian, 

“He was put up to tfiat, to keep up tlie tradition,” ob- 
served Harry. 

On reaching the house, the eld-ers proceeded to five 
o’clock tea in tlie drawing-rooin, the juniors to gouter in 
tile dining-room. As Dolores entered, she beheld a row 
of all her five younger cousins drawn up looking at her 
as if she had committed high treason, and she was in- 
stantly addressed. 

“Tell-tale tit!” began Valetta. 

“ Sneak!” cried Wilfred. 

“ I will call her Croat!” added Fergus. 

O 

“Worse than Croat! — Bashi-Bazouk!” exclaimed Val- 
etta. 

“ Worse than Crow!” chimed in Primrose. 

“ Oh, Dolores, how could you?” said Mysie. 

“To get poor Willie punished!” said Viil. 

Dolores stood her ground. “ It was time to speak 
when it came to shooting arrows at me.” 

“Hush! hush! Willie,” cried Mysie. “I told you so. 
Xqw, Dolores, listen. Nobody ever tells of anybody when 
it is only being tiresome and they don’t mean it, or there 
never would be any peace at all. That’s honor! Do you 
see? One may go to Gill sometimes.” 

“ One’s a sneak if one does,” put in Wilfred; but Mysie 
unheeding went on : 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


C3 


And Gill can help witliont a fuss or going to mamma. 

“Mamma ahva\'S knows,” said Val. 

“Mamma knows all about everything,” said Mysie. 
“I think it’s nature; and if she docs not always take 
notice at the time, she will have it out sooner or later.” 
Then resuming the thread of her discourse: “So you see, 
Dolly, we iiave made up our minds that we will forgive you 
this time, because you are an only child, and don’t know 
Avhat’s what, and that’s some excuse. Only you mustn’t 
go on telling tales whenever an accident ha})pens.” 

DolDres thought it was she who ought to forgive, hut 
the force .against her was overpowering, though still she 
hesitated. “ But if I promise not to tell,” she said, how 
do I know what may he done to me?” 

“ You might trust ns,” cried Mysie, with flashing eyes. 

“And I can tell you,” added Wilfred, “ that if you do 
tell, it will he ever so much the worse for you — girl that 
you are.” 

■* War to the knife!” cried Valetta, and everybody ex- 
cept i\[ysie joined in the outcry. “ War to the knife with 
traitors in the camp.” 

iMysie managed to produce a pause, and again acted 
orator. “ Yon see, Dolores, if you did tell, it would not 
be possible for mamma or Gill to be always looking after 
you, and I couldn’t do much good — .and if .all these three 
.are set against you, and are horrid to you, you’ll have no 
peace in your life; and, after .all, we only ask of you to 
give and take in a good-natured sort of w.ay, and not to be 
always making a fuss about everything you don’t like. It 
is the only w.ay, I assure you.” 

Dolores saw the fates were against her, and s.aid: 

“ Very Avell.” 

“ You promise?” 

“'Yes.” 

“ Then we forgive you, and here’s the box of chocolate 
things Aunt Ada brought. We’ll have a cigar all round 
and be friends. Smoke the pipe of peace.” 

Dolores afterw.ard thought how grand it would h.ave 
been to have replied, “Dolores Mohun will never be in- 
timidated;” but the fact was that her spirit did quail at 
the thought of the tortures which the two boys might in- 
flict on her if ]\Iysie abandoned her to their mercy, and 
she was relieved," .as well as surprised, to find that her 


64 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


offense was condoned, and she was treated as if nothing 
had happened. 

Meantime Aunt Jane was asking in the drawing-room, 

How do yon get on?’’ 

“Fairly well,” was Lady Merrifield’s answer. “We 
shall work together in time.” 

“ What does Gill say?” asked the annt, rather mischiev- 
ously. 

“ Well,” said the young lady, I don’t think we get on 
at all, not even poor Mysie, who works steadily on at her, 
gets snubbed a dozen times a day, and never seems to 
feel it.” 

“ I hoped her father would have sent her to school,” said 
Annt Adeline. “I knew she would be troublesome. She 
has all her mother’s pride. 

“The proudest people are those who have least to be 
proud of,” said Aunt Jane. 

“ School would have hardened the crust and kept up 
the alienation,” said Lady Merrifield. 

“ Perhaps not. It might teach her to value the holi- 
days, and learn that blood is thicker than water,” said 
Miss Jane. 

“It is always in reserve,” added Miss Adeline. 

“ Yes, Maurice told me to send her if I grew tired of 
her, as he said,” replied Lady Merrifield, “ but of course 
I should not think of that unless for very strong rea- 
sons.” 

“ Oh, mamma!” and Gillian remained with her mouth 
open. 

“ Well!” said Aunt Jane. 

“ I meant to have told you mamma, but Mr. Leadbitter 
came in about the G.F.S. and stopped me, and I have 
never seen you to speak to since. Yesterday, you know, 

I stayed from evensong to look after the liule ones, and 
you said Dolores might do as she pleased, so she stayed at 
home. The children were looking at the book of Bible 
Pictures, and it came out that Dolly knew nothing at all 
about Joshua and the walls of Jericho, nor Gideon and the 
lamps in the pitchers, nor anything else. Then, when I 
was surprised, she said that it was not the present system 
to perplex children with the myths of ancient Jewish 
history.” 

Gillian was speaking rapidly, in the growing conscious- 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


65 


mess tlvafc her inotlier had rather have had this communi- 
cation reserved for her private ear — and her answer was, 
"‘Poor child!” 

“ Just wliat I should expect!” said Aunt Jane. 

“Probably it was jargon half understood, and repeated 
m defense of her ignorance,” said Lady Merrifield. “She 
is an odd mixture of defiant loyalty and self-defense.” 

“ What shall you do about this kind of talk?” asked 
her sister. 

“ One must hear it sooner or later,” said Harry. 

“ dhiut is true,” returned his rnotlier, “but I suppose 
Fergus and Primrose did not hear or understand.” 

“Oh, no, mamma. I know they did not, for they 
were squabbling because Primrose wanted to turn over 
before Fergus had done with Gideon.” 

“Then I don’t think there is any harm done. If it 
comes before Mysie or Val I will talk to them, and I 
mean to take this poor child alone for a little while each 
day in the week and try to get at her.” 

“ There’s another thing,” said Gillian. “Is she to go 
down with me always to Casement Cottages on Sunday 
afternoons when I take the class?” 

“To teach or to learn?” ironically exclaimed Aunt Jane. 

“Neither,” said Gillian. “To chatter to Constance 
Ilacket. They both spoke to me about it yesterday before 
I went home, and I believe Constance has written a note 
to her to ask her to-day! Fancy, that goose told me my 
sweet cousin was a dear, and that we didn’t appreciate 
her. Even Miss Hackett gave me quite a lecture on kind- 
ness and consideration to an orphan stranger.” 

“Not uncalled for, perhaps,” said Aunt Jane. “I 
liope you received it in an edifying manner.” 

“Now, Aunt Jane! Well, I believe I said we were as 
kind as she would let ns be, especially Mysie.” 

Lady Merrifield here made the move to conduct her 
sisters to their rooms; Miss Mohun detained her when 
they had reached hers, and had left Adeline to rest on 
her sofa. The two, tliough very unlike, had still the 
habits of absolute confidential intimacy belonging to sis- 
ters next in age. 

“Lily,” said Miss Mohun, “Gillian spoke of a note. 
Did Maurice give you any directions about this child’s 
correspondence?” 


G6 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


You know I did nofc see him. I was so much disap- 
pointed. I would give anything to have talked her over 
with him.” 

‘‘I am not sure that you would have gained much, 1 
doubt whether he knows much about her, poor fellow. 
But tlie letters?” 

“He wrote that she had been a good deal witli Pro- 
fessor Seftoids family, and he thought they might like to 
keep up their intercoiiise.” 

“ Nothing about Flinders? He ought to have warned 
you.” 

“ No. Who is he?” 

“ A half-brother — no, a step-brother to poor Mary. He 
was the son by a foi'mer marriage of her father’s first wife, 
and has been always a thorn in their sides. He is a low, 
dissipated kind of creature; writes theatrical criticisms 
for tliird-rate papers, or something of that kind, when he 
is at his best. T believe Mary was really fond of him, 
and helped him more than Maurice could well bear, 
and since her death the man has perfectly ’|)estered him 
with appeals to her memory. I really believe one reason 
he welcomed this post was to get out of his reach.” 

“You always know everything, Jenny. Now how did 
you know this?” 

“I called once in the midst of an interview between 
him and Mary. And afterwards I came on poor Maurice 
wnen lie was really very much provoked, and had it all 
out; and since her death — well, I saw him get a begging 
letter from the man, and he spoke of it again. I wish I 
had advised him to warn you against the wretch.” 

“I don’t suppose he knows where the child is. He is 
no relation to her, you say?” 

“None at all, happily. But on that occasion, when 1 
was an uncomfortable third, Maurice was very angry that 
she should have been allowed to call him Uncle Alfred: 
and Mary screwed up her little mouth, and evidently 
rath(M’ liked the aggravation to Mohun pride.” 

“ Poor Maurice, so he had a skeleton! Well, I don’t 
see how it can hurt us. The man })robably knows nothing 
about us, and even if he could trace the girl, he must 
know that she can do nothing for him.” 

“ You had better keep an eye on her letters. He is 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. C7 

f^uite capable of asking for the })oor child’s half-sovereigns. 
1 wish Maurice had given yon antliority/’ 

“ Perhaps lie spoke to lier about it. At any rate, what 
he said of the Seftons is quite sufficient to imply that 
there is no sanction to any other coi’respondence.” 

“ Tliat is true. Really, Lily, I believe you ai e the most 
likely [lerson to do some good with her, tliougii I don’t 
think you know wiiat you are in for. But Gillian does!” 

“I believe it is very good for the children to liave to 
exercise a little forbearance. In s])ite of all our knocking 
about tiie world, our family exclusiveness is pretty much 
what ours was in tlie old Bcechcroft days — ” 

Wlien Rotlierwood and Robert Mohun were our only 
outsiders and the Westons came on us like new revelations!” 

‘‘It is curious to look back on,” said Lady Merrifield. 
“It seems to me tliat the system, or no-systern, on which 
we were brought up was rather passing away even then.” 

“ Specks we growed,” said Jane. “ What do you call 
the system?” 

“Just tliat people thought it their own business to 
bring up their children themselves, and let the actual 
technical teaching depend upon opportunities, whereas 
now they get them taught, but let the bringing-up take 
its chance.” 

“People lived with their children then — yes, I see what 
you mean, Ijily. Poor Eleanor, intending with all her 
might to be a mother to us, brought us up, as you call it, 
wirii ail her powers; but public opinion would never have 
suffered us to get merely the odd sort of teaching that she 
could give us. It was regular, of course; but oh! do you 
remember the old atlas, with Germany divided into circles, 
and everything as it was before the Congress of Vienna?” 

“ You liked geography; I hated it.” 

“Yes, I was young enough to come in for the elder 
boys’ old school atlases, which had some sense in them. 

It seems to me that we had more the spirit of working 
for ourselves according to our individual tastes than peo- 
ple have now. We learned, they are taught.” 

“ Well! and what did we learn?” 

“As much as we could carry,” said Aunt Jane, laugh- 
ing. “ Assimilate, if you like it better; and 1 doubt if 
people will turn out to have done more now. What be- 
comes of all the German that is crammed down girls’ 


68 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


throats, vvhetlier tliey liave a turn for languages or not r' 
Do tliey ever read a German book? Now you learned it for 
love of Pouqn6 and Max Piccoloinini, and you have kept 
it up ever since.” 

“Yes, by cramming it down my children’s throats. 
But wliat 1 complain of, Jane, in the young folk that 
come across me is not overknowledge, but want of knowl- 
edge — want of general culture. This Dolores, for in- 
stance, can do what she has been taught better than 
Mysie, some things better than Gillian, but she has abso- 
lutely no interest in general knowledge, not even in the 
glaciers which she has seen; she does not know whether 
Homer wrote in Greek or Latiti, considers “Marmion” 
a lesson, can not tell a planet from a star, and neither 
knows nor cares anything about tiie two Napoleons. Now 
we seem to have breathed in such things. Why! I remem- 
ber being made into Astyanax for a very unwilling An- 
dromache (poor Eleanor) to caress, and being told to shud- 
der at the bright copper coal-scuttle, before Harry went 
to school.” 

“ Of course poor Maurice could not cultivate his child. 
Yet, after all, we grew up without a mother; but then 
the dear old baron lived among us, and knew what we 
were doing, instead of shutting us up in a school-room 
with some one, with only knowledge, not culture. Those 
very late dinners have quite upset all the intelligent inter- 
course between fathers and children not come out.” 

“ Yes, Jasper and I have felt that difficulty. But after 
all, Jenny, when I look back I can not say I think ours 
was a model bringing-np. What a strange year that was 
after Eleanor’s marriage!” 

“Ah! yon felt responsible and were too young for it, 
bat to me it was a very jolly time, though I suppose I was 
an ingredient in your troubles. Yes, we brought our- 
selves up; but I maintain that it was a better alternative 
than being drilled so hard as never to think of anything 
but arrant idling out of lesson-time.” 

“ Lessons should be lessons, and play, play, is one of 
the professor’s maxims to which that poor child has treated 
n s, ” 

“ Ah! on that system, where would have been all your 
grand heraldic pedigrees? I’ve got them still.” 

“ Oh! Jennie, yon good old Brownie, have yon? How 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


69 


I should like to look at them again and show them 
to Gillian and Mysie! Do you remember the little scal- 
loped line we drew round all the true knights?” 

“ Ay! and where would liave been all your romancing 
about Sir Maurice de Moiiun, the pride of his name? For 
my part, I much prefer a cavalier dead two hundred years 
ago as the object of a girl’s enthusiasm — if enthusiasm 
she must have — to the existing lieutenant, or even curate.” 

“ Certainly; I should be sorry to have been bred up to 
history with individual interest and romance squeezed out 
of it. You see when Jasj^er came home from the Crimea 
he exactly continued mine.” 

You liave fulfilled your ideal better than falls to the lot 
of most people, even to the item of knighthood.” 

‘‘Ah! you should have lieard us grumble over the ex- 
pense of it. And, after all, I dare say Sir Maurice found 
his knight’s fee quite as inconvenient! Oh!” with a start, 
“ there’s the first bell, and here have I been dawdling 
here instead of minding my business! But it is so nice to 
have you! I say, Jennie, we will have one of our good old 
games of thread-paper verses and all the rest, to-night. 
I want you to show the children how we used to play at 
them.” 

And the party played at paper games for nearly two 
hours that evening to the extreme delight of Gillian, 
Mysie, and Harry, to say nothing of their mother and 
aunts, who played with all their might, even Aunt Ade- 
line lighting up into droll, quiet humor. Only Dolores 
was first bewildered, then believed herself affronted, and 
soon gave up altogether, wondering that grown-up people 
could be so foolish. 


CHAPTER VII. 

G.F.S. 

The first thought of Dolores was that she should see 
Constance Hacket, when she heard “Hurrah fol* a holi- 
day!” resounding over the house. 

As she came out of her room Mysie met her. “ Hur- 
rah! Aunt Jane has got us a holiday that we may help 
get ready for the G.F.S. ! Mamma has sent down notes 
to Miss Vincent and Mr. Pollock. Oh! jolly, jolly!” 


70 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


And, oblivions of past offenses, ^Fysie cauglit her cous- 
in’s arms, and whirled her round and rouml in an exult- 
ing dance, extremely unpleasant to so quiet a perscmage. 
“ Don’t!’’ she cried. “ You hurt! You make me dizzy!” 

“My ccrtie, Miss Mysie!” exclaimed Mrs. lialf})enny 
at the same time, “ye’re daft! Gae doon canny, and 
keep vour apron on, for if I see a stain on that clean 
<lress— ” 

Mysie hopped down-stairs without waiting to hear the 
terrihle consequences. 

Aunt Adeline did not come down to breakfast, but 
Aunt Jane appeared, fresh and glowing, just in time for 
prayers, having been with Gillian and Harry to survey 
the scene of ojierations, and to judge of the day, which 
threatened showers, the grass being dank and sparkling 
witli something more than September dews. 

“ 'J'he tables must be in the coach-house,” said Lady 
Merrifield. “Happily, our equipages are not on a large 
scale, and we must not get the poor girls’ best things 
drenched.” 

“ No; and it is rather disheartening to have to address 
double ranks of umbrellas,” said Aunt Jane. “ Is the 
post come?” 

“ It is always infamously late heve,” said Harry. “ We 
complained, as the appointed hour is eight, but we were 
told ‘all the other ladies were satisfied.’ I do believe 
they tnink no one not in business has a right to wish for 
letters before nine.’’ 

“ Here it comes, though,” said Gillian; and in due time 
the locked letter-bag was delivered to Lady Merrifield, and 
Primrose waited eagerly to act as postman. 

It was not the day for t.he Indian mail, but Aunt Jane 
expected some last directions, and Lady Merrifield the 
final intelligence as to the numbers of each contingent of 
girls. Dolores was on the qui vive for a letter from .Maude 
Sefton, and devoured her aunt and the bag with her eyes. 
She was quite sure that among the bundle of i)ost-canls 
that were taken out there was a letter. Also she saw iier 
aunt give a little start,, and put it aside, and when she de- 
manded. “Is there no letter for me?” Ladv Merrifiel.l’s 
answer was, “None, my dear, from Miss Sefton.” 

Hot Indignation glowed in Dolores’ cheeks and eyes, 
more especially as she perceived a look pass between the 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 




two aunts. She sat swelling while talk about the chances 
of rain was passing round her, the forecasts in the i)aper, 
tlie cats washing their faces, the swallows flying low, the 
upshot being that it might be fine, but that emergencies 
were to be prepared for. All the time that Lady Merri- 
fleld was giving orders to children and servants for the 
preparations, Dolores kept her station, and the instant 
there was a vacant moment, she said fiercely: 

Aunt Lilias, I know there is a letter for me. Let me 
have it.” 

Your father told me you might have letters from 
Miss Sefton, and there is none from her,” said Lady 
Merrifield, with a somewhat perplexed air. 

I may have letters from whom I choose.” 

My. dear, that is not the custom in general with girls 
of your age, and I know that your father would not wish 
it. Tell me, is there anyone you have reason to expect to 
hear from.” 

Dolores had an instinct that all the Mohuns were set 
against the person she was thinking of, but she had an 
answer ready, true, but which would serve her pur})ose. 

“ There was a person, Herr Muhlwaiisser, that father 
ordered some scientific plates from — of microscopic 
zoophytes. He said he did not know whether anything 
would come of it, but, in case it should he gave my ad- 
dress, and left me a check to pay him with. I have it 
in mv desk upstairs.” 

“ Veiy well, my dear,” said Lady Merrifield, ‘*^you 
shall have the letter when it comes.” 

‘‘Tiie men are come, my lady, to put up the tables. 
Miss Mohun says will you come down?” came tiie infor- 
mation at that moment, sweeping away Aunt Lilias and 
everybody else into the whirl of preparation; while Dolores 
remained, feeling absolutely certain that a letter was be- 
ing wi til held from her, and she stood on the garden steps 
burning with hot indignation, when Mysie, armed with 
the key of the linen-press, flashed past her breathlessly, 
exclaiming: 

“ Aren’t you coming down, Dolly? ’Tis such fun! I’m 
come for some table-cloths.” 

This didn’t stir Dolores, but presently Mysie returned 
again, followed by Mrs. Halfpenny, grumbling that ‘‘A’ 
the bonnie napery that she had packed and carried sae 


7:2 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


mony miles by sea and land should be warned on a wbeen 
silly feckless taiipies that ’tis the leddies’ wnll to cocker 
up till not a lass of ’em will do a stroke of wark, nor gie 
a ceevil answer to her elders.” 

Mysie, with a bundle of damask cloths under her arm, 
paused to repeat, ^‘Are you not coming, Dolly? Your 
dear Miss Constance is there looking'for you.” 

This did move Dolores, and she followed to the coach- 
house, where everybody was buzzing about like bees, the 
tables and forms being arranged, and upon them dishes 
with piles of fruit and cakes, contributions from other 
associates. All the vases, great and small, were brought 
out, and raids were made on the flower garden to fill them. 
Little scarlet flags, with the name of each parish in white, 
were placed to direct the parties of guests to their places, 
and Harry, Macrae, and the little groom w’ere adorning 
the beams with festoons. The men from thecoffee-tavern 
supplied the essentials, but the ladies undertook the 
decoration, and Aunt Adeline, in a basket- chair, with her 
feet on a box, directed the ornamentation with great taste 
and ability. Constance Racket had been told off to make 
u}) a little bouquet to lay beside each plate, and Dolores 
volunteered to help her. 

“ Well, dearest, will you come to me on Sunday?” 

‘‘ I don’t know. I have not been able to ask Aunt 
Lilias yet, and Gillian was very cross about it.” 

What did slie say?” 

She said she did not think Aunt Lilias approved of 
visiting and gossiping on Sundays.” 

Oh! now. What does Gillian do herself?” said Con- 
stance in a hurt voice. ^'She does come and teach, cer- 
tainly, but she stays ever so long talking after the class is 
over. ^ AVhy should we gossip more than siie does?” 

Yes; but people’s own children can do no wrong.” 
There Constance became inattentive. Mr. Poulterhad 
come up, and wanted to be useful, so she jumped up with 
a handful of nosegays to instruct him in laying them by 
each plate, leaving Dolores to herself, whicli she found 
dull. The other two, however, came back again, and the 
work continued, but the talk was entirely between the 
gentleman and lady, chiefly about music for the choral 
society, and the voices of the singers, about which Dolores 
neither knew nor cared. 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


By one o’clock the long tables were a j)retty sight, cov- 
ered with piles of fruit and cakes, vases of flowers and 
little flags, establishments of tea-cups at intervals, and a 
bouquet and pretty card at every one of the plates. 

Then came early dinner at the house, and such rest as 
could be had after it, till the pony-chaise, wagonette, 
and Mrs. Blackburne’s carriage came to the door to con- 
vey to church all whom they could carry, the rest walking. 

The church was a sea of neat round hats, mostly black, 
with a considerable proportion of feathers, tufts, and 
flowers. On their dark dresses were pinned rosettes of 
different-colored ribbon, to show to which parish they be- 
longed. There was a bright, short service, in which the 
clear, high voices of the multitudinous maidens quite 
overcame those of the choir boys, and then an address, re- 
specting which Constance pronounced thac ‘‘Canon Fre- 
mont was always so sweet,” and Dolores assented, without 
in the least knowing what it had been about. 

Constance, who had driven down, was to have kept 
guard, in the walk from church, over the white-rosed 
Silverton detachment; but another shower was impend- 
ing, and Miss Hacket, declaring that Conny must not get 
wet, rushed up and packed her into the wagonette, where 
Dolores was climbing after, when at a touch from Gillian, 
Lady Merrifield looked around. 

“"Dolores,” she said, “you forget that Miss Hacket 
walked to church.” 

Dolores turned on the step, her face looking as black as 
thunder, and Miss Hacket protested that she was not 
tired, and could not leave her girls. 

“ Never mind the girls, I will look after them; I meant 
to walk. Don’t stand on the step. Come down,” she 
added sharply, but not in time, for the horses gave a jerk, 
and, with a scream from Constance, down tumbled Do- 
lores, or would have tumbled, but that she was caught 
between her aunt and Miss Hacket, who with one voice 
admonished her never to do that again, for there was 
nothing more dangerous. Indeed, there was more anger 
in Lady Merrifield’s tone than her niece had yet heard, 
and as there was no making out that there was the least 
injury to the girl, she was forced to walk home, in spite 
of all Miss Hacket’s protestations and refusals, which had 
nearly ended in her exposing herself to the same peril as 


74 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


Dolores, only that Lady Merriheld fairly pushed her in 
and shut the door on lier. Nothing would have compen- 
sated to Dolores but that her Constance should have jumped 
out to accompany her and bewail her aunt’s cruelty, but 
devotion did not reach to such an extent. Her aunt, 
however, said in a tone that miglit be either apology or 
reproof : 

My dear I could not let poor Miss Hacket walk after 
all she has done and with all she has to do to-day.” 

Dolores vouchsafed no answer, but Aunt Jane said: 

All which applies doubly to you, I^ily.” 

^‘Not a bit; I am not run about like all of you,” 
she answered, brightly. ‘^Besides, it is such fun! I feel 
like Whit-Monday at Beechcroft! Don’t you remember 
the pink and blue glazed calico banners crowned with 
summer snow-balls? And the big drum? What a nice- 
looking set of girls! How pleasant to see rosy, English 
faces tidily got up! They were rosy enough in Ireland, 
but a great deal too picturesque. Now these are a sort of 
flower of maidenhood — ” 

You are getting quite poetical, Lily.” 

It’s the effect of walking in procession — there's some- 
thing quite exhilarating in it; ay, and of having a bit of 
old Beechcroft about me. Do tell me who that lady is; I 
ought to know her. I’m sure! Oh, Mrs. Smith, good- 
morning. How many girls have you brought? Oh, the 
crimson rosettes, are they? York and Lancaster? — indeed. 
I’m glad we have some shelter for them; I’m afraid there 
is another shower. Have you an umbrella, my dear? 
Come under mine,” 

It was a fierce scud of hail, hitting rather than wetting, 
but Dolores had the satisfaction of declaring the edges of 
her dress to be damp and going off to change it, though 
Aunt Jane pinched the kilting and said the damp w\ts 
imperceptible, and AVilfred muttered, '^Made of sugar, 
only not so sweet.” 

In fact, she hoped that Constance, who had told of her 
hatred to these great functions and willingness to do any- 
thing to avoid them, would avail herself of the excuse; 
but though the young lady must have seen her go, she 
never attempted to follow; and Dolores, feeling her own 
room dull, came down again to find the drawing-room 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 75 

empty, and on the next gleam of sunshine, she decided 
on going to seek hei* frn>nd. 

AVliat a hum and buzz pervaded the stahle-yard! There 
Avas ti)e coach-house with all its great doors open, and the 
rows of girls awakening from their first shy and hungry 
silence into laughter and talking. 'J'here were big urns 
and fountains steaming, active hands filling cups, all the 
cousijis, all their congeners, and four or five clergymen 
acting as waiters, Aunt Adeline })ouriug out tea at tlie 
upper table for any associate who had time to swallow it, 
and Constance Racket talking away to a sandy-haired 
curate, without so much as seeing her friend! Only Wil- 
fred, at sight of his cousin again, getting up a violent 
mock cough, declaring that he thought she had gone to 
bed with congealed lungs or else Brown Titus, as the old 
women called it. His mother, however, heard the cough 
— which, indeed, was too remarkable a sound not to at- 
tract any one — and with a short, sharp word to him to 
take (!are, she put Dolores down under Aunt Ada’s wing, 
and provided her with a lovely peach and a delicious Bath 
bun. Constance just looked up and nodded, saying, ‘‘ You 
dear little thing, I couldn’t think what was become of 
you,” and then went on with her sandy curate, about — 
Avhat was it? — Dolores knew not, only tliat it seemed very 
interesting, and she wnis left out of it. 

Down came the rain, a ho})eless downpour, and there 
Avas a consultation among the elders, some laughing, some 
doubtful looks, and at last Harry, witli Macrae and one 
of the curates, disappeared. Then grace was sung, and 
speeches followed — one by the rector, Mr. Lccid bitter, 
fatherly and prosy; a })aper read by the branch secretary, 
about affairs in general: and a very amusing speech by 
Miss Mohun, full of anecdotes of example and warning. 

“ Von know,” she said, ‘‘all the school story books end 
— when the grown-up books marry their people — with the 
good girl going out to service under her young lady, and 
there she lives happy ever after! But some of us know 
better! We don’t know how far the marrying ones al- 
ways do live very happy ever after — ” 

“For shame, Jenny!” muttered Lady Merrifield. 

“ But,” went on Miss Mohun, “even you that have 
been lucky enough to get under your own young ladies 
know that life here is all new beginnings at the bottom, 


i o 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


just as when you were very proud of yourselves for get- 
ting out of tile infant school, you foiind it was only be- 
in;’ at the bottom of the upper one; and I can tell the 
twelve-vear-olds — 1 see some of them — that it is often a 
finer thing to he at the head of the school than the last 
in the house. Ay, you’ve got to work up there again, 
and it is a long business and a steady business, but it is to 
bo done. I knew a girl thirty-five years ago that my sis- 
ter-in-law took from school, and she was not a genius 
either, and 1 am quite sure she could not do rule-of-three, 
nor tell what is the cajiital of Dahomey, as I dare say 
every one here can do, but I’ll tell you what she did, and 
that was — her best, and there she has been ever since, and 
the last time I saw her was sitting up in her housekeeper’s 
room, in her silk gown, with her master’s grandchildren 
hanging about her, respected and loved by us all. And 
I knew another, a much cleverer girl at scliool, with pret- 
tier ways to begin with, but — I’m sorry to say, her fingers 
were too clever, and it was not very happy ever after, 
though she did right herself.” And then Aunt Jane w(‘nt 
on to the difficulties of having to deal with sucli quanti- 
ties of pots and pans, and knives and forks, and cloths 
and brushes, each with a use of its very own, just as if 
she had been a scullery-maid herself, telling how sense and 
memory must be brought to bear on these things just as 
much as in analyzing a sentence, and how even those 
would not do without the higher motive of faithfulness to 
Him wliose servants we are. Her finish was a picture of 
tlie roving servant girl, always saying, ‘‘ I don’t like it,” 
and always seeking novelty, illustrated by her experience 
of a little maid who left one place because she could not 
sleep alone, and another because the little girl slept with 
her, a third because it was so lonesome, and a fourth be- 
cause it was so noisy, and quitted her fifth within a half 
year becatise she could not eat twice cooked meat. 

Aunt Jane varied her voice in the most comical way, 
and the girls, as well as all her audience, laughed heartily. 

“ Bravo. Jenny!” said a voice close to her, and a gen- 
ileman with a rather bald head, a fluffy, light beard 
touched with white, dancing eyes, and a slim, youtliful 
figure, was seen standing in the group. 

Lady Merrifield and her sisters cried with one glad 
voice, Oh! Rotherwood!” holding out their hands. 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


77 


“ Yes. I found I’d a few hours between the trains, so 
I ran down to look you up. I met Harry at tlie liouse, 
and he told me I should lind Jane qualifying for tiie 
female parliament.” 

“ It’s such a pity you should fall on all this turmoil,” 
said Aunt Ada. 

Pity! I wouldn’t have missed Jenny’s wisdom for the 
world. AVhat is it, Lily? Temperance, or have you set 
up a Salvation Army?” 

‘‘ G.F.S., of course, you Eotherwood of old! And 
now you are come, you shall save me from what has been 
my bugbear for the last week. You shall give the pre* 
miums.” 

“ Come, it’s no use making faces and *pretending you 
know nothing about it,” added Miss Mohun. "‘I know 
very well that Florence is deep in it.” 

‘^Ay, they’ll have you over to repeat that splendid 
harangue about pots and pans!” said he, bowing at Lady 
Merrifield’s introductions of him to the bystanders, and 
obediently accepting the sheaf of envelopes, while Mr. 
Leadbitter made it known that the premiums would be 
given by the Marquis of Eotherwood. Certainly it was 
a much more lively business than if Lady Merrifield had 
performed it, for he had something droll to observe 
to each girl. One he pretended to envy, telling her 
he had worked hard for many a year, and never got 
such a card as that for it — far less five shillings. Another 
he was sure kept lier pans bright, and always knew which 
was which; a very little one was asked if she had gone 
from her cradle, and so on, always sending them away 
with a broad smile, and professing great respect for the 
three seven-year-card maidens who came up last. Then 
in a concluding speech he demanded — where were the 
premiums for the mistresses, who, he was quite sure, de- 
served them quite as much or more than the maids! 

While everybody was still laughing. Lady Merrifield 
asked Mr. Leadbitter to explain that as it was still rain- 
ing hard, she must ask all to adjourn to the great loft 
over the stable, where they could enjoy themselves. Each 
associate was to gather her own fiock and bring them in 
order. Lady Merrifield said she would lead the way. 
Lord Eotherwood coming with her, picking up little Prim- 
rose in his arms to carry her upstairs to the loft. 


78 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


Every one was moving. Dolores was among a crowd of 
sta-angers. She heard them saying liow deliglitfiil Lord 
Eotiierwood was, and charming and handsome and grace- 
ful Lady Merritield, witli her beautiful eyes. It worried 
Dolores, who thouglit it rather foolish to be pretty, ex- 
cept in the case of the persecuted orphan, and, moreover, 
admiration of her aunt always seemed to her disparage- 
ment of her mother. And where was Constance? 

She followed the stream, and, climbing some stairs, 
came out into a large, long, empty hay loft, over what 
liad once been hunting stables — the ciiildren’s wet-day 
play-place. The depuUtion dispatched to the house had 
mainiged to get up there the sci)Oo!-ioom })iano, and one 
of the curates sat down to it, and began playing dance 
music, Wiiile Miss Mohun, Miss Hacket, and the other 
ladies began arranging couples for a country dance — nil 
girls, of course, except that Lord Rotherwood danced with 
the tiny premium girl, and Harry with Piiinrose. Wil- 
fred and Fergus could not be incited to make the attempt; 
Mysie offered herself to Dolores, but in vain. “ I hate 
dancing,” was all the answer she got, and she went off to 
persuade Lois, the nursery girl. Constance Hacket ar- 
ranged hei’vself on a chair, and looked out from between 
two curates; there wjis no getting -at her. 

Then t.here came a pause; Lord Rotherwood spoke to 
Gillian, and must have asked her to point Dolores out, 
for j)resently he made his way to the little dark figure in 
the window, and, kindly laying his hand on hershoulder, 
asked whether she had heard from her father yet. 

No, I suppose you can’t,” he added. “ It is a great 
break-up for yon; but you are a lucky girl to be taken in 
here! It reminds me of what Beechcroft used to be to 
me when 1 was a stray fish, though not quite so lonely as 
you are. Make the most of it, for there aren’t many in 
these days like Aunt Lily there!” 

“ He little knows,” thought Dolores, as a waltz began 
to be phiyed. 

“They want an example,” he said. “ Come along. 
You know how. I’m sure — a Londoner like you!” 

Pairs were whirling about the floor in full career in a 
short time, to the astonishment of other maidens who had 
never seen dancing in their lives. Dolores, afraid to re- 
fuse, and certainly flattered, really was wonderfully ex-» 


79 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 

liilaruted and brightened by her career with lier good- 
natured cousin. 

“ I do belive Cousin Rotherwood has shaken lier out of 
tlie dumps,” observed Gillian to Aunt Jane, who returned: 

He can do it if any one can.” 

The funny thing was the effect upon Constance, who, 
in the next pause, shook off her curates, advanced to 
Dolores, who was recovering her breatii under the window, 
called her a dear thing whom she had not been able to get 
to all this time, sat rather forward with an arm round her 
waist for the next half hour, and, when Sir Roger de 
Coverley was getting up, proposed that they should be 
partners, but not till she had seen Lord Rotherwood pair 
himself off with Mysie. 

must,” said lie to Lady Merrifield, ^Mt’s so like 
dancing with honest Phyl.” 

The greatest compliment yon could have, Mysie,” said 
her mother, looking very much pleased. 

The last yellow patches of evening sunshine on the 
sloping roof faded; watches were looked at, the music 
turned to the National Anthem, everybody stood up, or 
stood still, and sung it. Then at the close, Mr. Leadbittcr 
stood by the piano, and said: 

‘^‘One word more, my young friends. Some of you 
may have been surprised at this evening’s amusement, but 
we want you to understand that there is no harm in danc- 
ing itself, provided that the place, the manner, and the 
companions are fit. I hope that you will all prove the 
truth of my wmrds, by not taking this ])leasant evening as 
an excuse for running into places . of temptation. Now, 
good-night, with many tlninks to Lady Merrifield for the 
happy day she has given us.” 

A voice added, “Three cheers for Lady Merrifield!” 
and the G.F.S. sliowed itself by no means backward in 
the matter of cheering. There was a hunting up of ul- 
sters and umbrellas; one associate after anotlier got her 
flock together, and clattered down-stairs, either to get into 
vans, to walk to the station, or to disperse to their homes 
in the town. — 

Meantime Lord Rotherwood had time to explain that 
he was on his way to fetch his wife home from some Ger- 
man baths, W'here she had gone to recruit after the season; 
and, as he meant to cross at night, had come to spend a 


80 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

few hours witli his cousins. There was still an hour to 
spare, during which Lady Merrifield insisted that he must 
have more solid food tlian G.F.S. provided. 

Lily,” said Miss Mohun, as the elders walked to the 
house together, ‘Mt strikes me that Kotherwood could 
satisfy your mind about that letter. He would know the 
handwriting. You remember a certain brother — very 
much in law — of Mauiice’s?” 

“I have reason to do so,” said Lord Eotherwood. 

You don’t mean that he has been troubling Lily?” 

‘^No; but from the nature of the animal it is much to 
be apprehended that he will,” said Miss Mohun, if he 
knows that the child is here.” 

‘‘Tin fact,” said Lady Merrifield, Jane has made me 
suppress, till examination, a letter to her, in case it should 
be from him. It is a horrid thing to do. What do you 
think, Eotherwood?” 

There should be no correspondence. Did not Maurice 
warn you? Then he ought. Look here, Lily. His wife 
— under strong compulsion from the fellow, I should 
think — begged me to find some employment for him. I 
got him a secretaryship to our Board of — what d’ye call 
it? I’ll do Maurice the justice to say that he was consid- 
erably cool about it; but the end of it was that there was 
an unaccountable deficit, and my Lady said it served me 
right. I was a fool, as 1 always am, and gave way to the 
poor woman about not bringing it home to him. And 
siie insisted on making it up to me by degrees — out of her 
literary work, I fancy — for I don’t think Maurice knew 
the extent of the peculation. Ever since I’ve been getting 
begging letters from the fellow at intervals. If he has the 
impertinence to molest you, Lily, simply refer him to me.” 

‘‘And if he writes to the child?” 

“ Eeturn him the letter. Say she can have no sucii 
thing without her father’s consent.” 

“ Is this a case in point?” said Lady Merrifield, pro- 
ducing the letter. 

“ No,” said he, holding it up in the waning light. “ I 
know the fellow’s fist too well! This is a gentleman’s 
hand.” 

“ What a relief!” said Lady Merrifield. 

^ “ Nay, don’t be in a hurry/’ said Miss Mohun. “ Don’t 
^ive it to her unopened. Your only safety is in main- 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 81 

taining your right to see all the child’s letters, except 
what her father specilied.” 

“ Don’t you wish it was you, Brownie?” asked her 
cousin. 

“ I hate it!” said Lady Merrifield; ‘‘but I suppose I 
ought! However, there’s no harm in this, that’s a com- 
fort; It is simply that the gentleman that the house is 
let to has found this note to her somewhere about, and 
thinks she would wish to have it, I think it is her 
mother’s hand. How nice of him!” 

“ Now, Lily, don’t go and be too apologetic,” said 
Jane. “ Assert your right, or you’ll have it all over 
again.” 

“ Without Jenny to do prudence,” said Lord Rother- 
wood, while Lady Merrifield, hardly hearing either of 
them, hurried on in search of her niece, but they would 
have been satisfied if they could have heard her. 

“ My dear, here’s your letter. 1 am sorry to have been 
too much hindered to look at it before. You must not 
mind, Dolly. I know it is very disagreeable; but every 
one who has the care of precious articles like young ladies 
is bound to look after them.” 

Dolores took the letter with a kind of acknowledgment, 
but no more, for its detention offended her, and slie was 
aggrieved at the prospect of future inspection, as another 
cruel stroke inflicted upon her. 

Aunt Adeline was found in the drawing-room, where 
she had entertained such ladies as were afraid of the 
damp, or who did not ajiprove of- the dancing, and would 
not look on at it. Thence all went off to a merry meal, 
where the elders plunged into old stories, and went on 
capping each others’ recollections and making fun, to the 
extreme delight of the young folk, who had often been 
entertained with tales of Beechcroft. Aunt Ada declared 
that she had not laughed so much for ten years, and 
Aunt Jane declared that it was too bad to lower their 
dignity and be so absurd before all these young things. 

“It’s having four of the old set together!” said Lord 
Rotherwood; “a chance one doesn’t get every day. I 
Avonder how soon Maurice and Phyllis will meet?” 

“It depends on whether the ‘Zenobia’ touches at 
Auckland before going to the Pijis,” said Ladv Merri- 
field. 


82 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD, 


“ There is at least a sort of iieighborliood between 
them/’ said.Miss Mohnn, “though it may be about as 
close as between us and Sicily.” 

“She is looking out for Maurice,” said Aunt Ada. 
** She wrote, only it was too late, to propose his bringing 
Dolores to be at least nearer to him.” 

“Just like Phyllis!” ejaculated the marquis. “You 
have one of your flock with something of her counte- 
nance, Lily.” 

“ I am so glad you see it, Rotherwood. It is what I 
am always trying to believe in, and I hope the likeness is 
a little within as well as wilhout — but we poor creatures 
who have been tumbled about the world get sopliisticated, 
and can’t attain to the sweet, blundering freshness of 
^Honest Simplicity.’” 

“It is a plant that must be spontaneous — can’t be 
grown to order.” 

“ His lordship’s carriage at the door,” announced Mac- 
rae. 

“Ah, well! Trains must be caught, I suppose. I’m 
glad you’re settled here, Lilias. I feel as if a sort of re- 
flex of old Beechcroft were attainable now.” 

“1 hope it won’t be a G.F.S. day next time you come!” 

“ Oh, it was very jolly, I shall bring my child next 
time, if I can get her out of the clutches of the governess 
fora day, but it is a hard matter. They look daggers at 
me if I put my head into the school-room.” 

“You always were. a dangerous element there, you 
know,” 

“ Poor dear Eleanor! What did I not make her go 
through! But she never went the length of one of my 
lady’s governesses, who declared that she had as much 
call to interfere in my stable as I had with her school- 
room.” 

“ What mischief were you doing there?” 

“ Well, if you must know, I was enlivening a very dry 
and Cromwellian abridgment with some of Lily’s old cava- 
lier anecdotes, so Lily was at the bottom of it, you see.” 

“ But did she fall on you then and there?” 

“ No, no. I trust my beard is too gray for that. But 
she looked at me with impressive dignity such as neither 
poor little Ply nor I could stand, and afterward betook 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


83 


herself to Victoria, who, 1 atii happy to say, sent her to 
ti)e riglit about.’’ 

As I am about to do,” said Lady Merrifield; for if 
you don’t miss your train, it will be by cruelty to animals. 

you’ve not got time to shake iiands with all that 
rabble. Be off with you.” 

“Ah! I shall tell Victoria that if she sees me to- 
morrow it’s all owing to your unpitying punctuality,” 
said he, shaking himself into his overcoat. 

*• Dear old fellow!” said Lady Merrifield, as she turned 
from the front door, while he drove off. He is like a 
gustofold Beechcroftair! But I should think Victoria 
had a handful.” 

“ She knew what she was doing,” said Aunt Ada. “ I 
always tliought she married him for the sake of breaking 
him in.” 

“ And very well she has done it, too,” returned Aunt 
Jane. “ Only now and then he gets a holiday, and then 
the real creature breaks out again. But it is much bet- 
ter so. He would not have been of half so much good 
otherwise.” 

Laily Merrifield looked from one to the other, but said 
no more, for all the young folks were round her; but every 
o, e was so much tired, children, servants, and all, that 
prayers were read early, and all went to their rooms. Yet 
tired as she was, Lady Merrifield saton in her sister Jane’s 
room, in her dressing-gown, talking according to another 
rival of olden time. 

“ What did Ada mean about Rotherwood? Isn’t he 
happy?” 

“Oh yes, very happy; and it is much the best thin.g 
that could have happened. It is only another of the 
])r()ofs that life is very long, especially for men.” 

“ Come, now, tell me all about it. You don’t know 
liow often I feel as if I had been buried and dug up 
ag.iin.” 

“ I'here are things one can’t write about. Poor fel- 
low! he never really wanted to marry anybody but Phyl- 
lis.” 

“ No! you don’t mean it! I never knew it!” 

“ No, for you were in the uttermost parts of the earth; 
and he was very good, so that I don’t believe honest 
Phyl herself, or any one without eyes, guessed it; but he 


84 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


iiad it all out with our fatlier, who begged him, almost on 
that allegiance he had always shown, to al)stain from be- 
ginning about it. You see, not only are they first cousins, 
but onr motlier and his father both were consumptive, 
and tliere was dear Claude even then regularly breaking 
down every winter, and Ada needing to be looked after 
like a hot -house plant. Ibn sure, wlien I think of the 
last generation of Devereuxes, I wondbr so many of us 
have been tough enough to weather the dangerous age; 
and tliere had been an alarm or two about Kotherwood 
himself. Well, he was very good, half from obedience, 
half from being convinced that it would be a selfish thing, 
and especially from being wholly convinced that Phyl’s 
feelings were not stirred. That was the way I came to 
know about it, for papa took me out for a drive in the old 
gig to ask what I thought about her heart, and I could 
truly and honestly say she had never found it, cared for 
Kotherwood just as she did for Eegie, and was not the sort 
to think whether a man was attentive to her. Besides, 
she was eighteen, and he thirty-one, and she thought him 
venerable. I believe, if he had asked her then, she might 
have taken him (because Cousin Kotherwood wished it), 
but she would have had to fall in love in the second place 
instead of the first. Well, he was very good, poor old 
fellow, except that by way of taking himself off, and di- 
verting his mind, he went deer-stalking with such un- 
necessary vehemence that a Scotch mist was very nearly 
tlie death of him, and he discovered that he had as many 
lungs as other people. If you could only have seen our 
dear old father then, how distressed and how guilty he 
felt, and how he used to watch Phyllis, and examine 
Aletheaand me as to whether she seemed more than reason- 
ably concerned for Kotherwood. I really think the anxiety 
of that winter aged him more than anything else, and that 
if Kotherwood had come and hit the right nail on the 
head he might have carried her off.” 

‘‘But he didn’t.” 

“No; for, you see, he was ill enough to convince him- 
self, as well as other people, that he was a consumptive 
Devereux after all.” 

“ Oh, yes. I remember the shock with which I heard 
like a doom that he was going the way of the otliers; and 
then he and the dear Claude came out in his yacht to ns 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELh. 


85 


;ii Gibraltar, and were so bright! We had a wonderful 
little journey into Spain together, and how Jasper en- 
joyed it! Little did I think I was never to see Claude 
here again. But it was true, was it not, that all Rother- 
wood’s care gave the dear fellow much more comfort — 
perhaps kept him longer?” 

‘‘ I am sure it was so. Rotherwood soon got over his 
own attack — the missing an English winter was all he 
needed; but he would hear of nothing but devoting him- 
self to Claude. Papa and Claude were both uneasy at his 
going ojff from all Ins cares and duties, but I believe — 
and Claude knew it — that he actually could not settle 
down quietly while Phyllis remained unmarried, and that 
having Claude to nurse and carry about from climate to 
climate was the comfort of his life. Or, I believe, dear 
Claude would have been glad to have been left in peace 
to do what he could. Well, then Phyllis and Ada went to 
stay in the Close with Emily, and Ada wrote conscious 
letters and came home bridling and blushing about Cap- 
tain May, so that we were quite prepared for liis turning 
up at Beechcroft, but not at all for wliat I saw before he 
had been ten minutes in the house, that it was Phyllis 
that he meant, and had meant all along! Dear Harry, it 
almost made up for its not being Rotherwood. Well, poor 
Ada! It hadn’t gone too deep, happily, and I opened 
her eyes in time to hinder any demonstration that could 
have left pain and shame — at least, I think so; but poor 
Ada has had too many little fits for one to have told 
much more than another. I believe Phyl did tell Harry 
that lie meant Ada, but she let herself be convinced to the 
contrary; and the only objection I have to it is his having 
taken that appoinment at Auckland, and carried her out 
of reach of any of us. However, it was better for Rother- 
wood, and when she was gone, and his occupation over 
with our dear Claude, his mother was always at him to 
let her see him married befoi-e she died. And so he let 
her have her wa}'. • No, don’t look concerned. Lady 
Rotherwood is an excollent, good woman, just the wife 
for him, and he knows it, and does as she tells him most 
faithfully and gratefully. They are pattern-folk from 
top to toe, and so is the boy. But the girl! He would have 
his way, and named her Phyllis — Fly he calls her. She is 
a little skittish elf — Rothm-wood himself all over; and 


86 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


doesn’t he worsln'p her! and doesn’t lie tliink it a liolidar 
to carry her off to play pranks with! and isn’t he happy 
to get amongst a good lot of us, and be iiisold self again!” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

MY PERSECUTED UNCLE. 

Dolores was allowed to go to Casement Cottage on 
Sunday. It was always rather an awful thing to her to 
get tlirough the paddock wlien the farmer’s cattle were 
turned out there. She did not mind it so much in the 
broad load and in the midst of a large party, with Hah 
among them, and no dogs; but alone Avith only one com- 
panion, and in the easy ])atli which was the shortest way 
to the cottage, she winced and trembled at the little black, 
shaggy Scorcl) oxen, witli white horns and faces tliat 
looked to lier very wild and fierce. 

“ Oh, Gillian, those creatures! Can’t we go the other 
way ?” 

‘‘Ho; it is a great deal further round, and there’s no 
time. They won’t hurt. The farmer engaged not to turn 
out anything vicious here.” 

“ But how can he be sure?” 

“ Well, don’t come if you don’t like it.” said Gillian, 
impatiently. “ It’s your-own concern. I must go.” 

Dolores did not like the notion of Constance being told 
that she would not come because she was afraid of the 
oxen. She thought it very unkind of Gillian, but she 
came, and kept carefully on the side furthest from the 
formidable animals. And Gillian really was forbearing. 
She did make allowances for the London-bred girl’s fears; 
and the only thing she did was, that when one of the ani- 
mals lifted up its head and looked, and Dolores made a 
spring as if to run away, she caught the girl’s arm, cry- 
ing, “ Don’t! That’s the very wav to make him run after 
you.” 

They got safe out of the paddock at last, and rang at 
the door. They were both kissed, Dolores w’ith especial 
affeetionateness, because the good ladies pitied her so 
much; and then while Miss Hacket and Gillian went off 
to their class, Constance took Dolores up into her own 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. SH 

room, and began to tell her bow disappointed she was not 
to have seen more of her at the festival. 

‘‘ Blit those curates would not let me alone. 1 was 
obliged to attend to them.” 

And then she was very eager to know all about Lord 
Rotherwood, which rather amazed Dolores, who had been 
"in the habit of hearing her father mention him as “ that 
.mad fellow Rotherwood,” while her niotlier always spoke 
witli contempt of people who ran after lords and ladies, 
and had been heard to say that Lord Rotherwood himself 
was well enough, but his wife was a mere fine Indy. 

But Dolores had a matter on which she was very 
anxious. 

‘‘Connie, do they always read one’s letters first? I 
mean the old people, like Aunt Lily.” 

“ Whatl has she been reading your letters?” 

“S!ie says she always shall, except father’s and Maude 
Sefton’s, because papa spoke to her about that. She took 
a letter of mine the other day, and never let me have it 
till the evening, and I am sure Aunt Jane put her up 
to it.” 

“You poor darling!” exclaimed Constance. “Was it 
anything you cared about?” 

“ Oh no — not that — but there might be. And I want 
to know whether she has the right.” 

“I should not have thought Lady Merrifield would 
have been so like an old school- mistress. Miss Dormer 
always did, the old cat! where I went to school,” said 
Constance. “We did hate it so! She looked over every 
one’s letters, except parents’, so that we never could have 
anything nice, except by a chance or so.” 

“It is tyranny,” said Dolores, solemnly. “I do not 
see why one should submit to it.” 

“ We had dodges,” continued Constance, warming with 
the history of her scl)ool-days, and far too eager to talk to 
think of the harm she might be doing to the younger girl. 
“Sometimes, when a lot of us went to a shop with one of 
the governesses, one would slip out and post a letter. 
Fraulein was so short-sighted, she never guessed. We 
used to call her the jolly old Kdfer. But Mademoiselle 
was very sharp. She once caught Alice Bell, so that she 
had to make an excuse and say she had dropped some- 
thing. You see, she really had-^the letter into the slit.” 


88 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


^*But that was an equivocation.” 

Oh, yon darling, scrupulous, long-worded child! You 
aren’t like the girls at Miss Dormer’s, only she drove us to 
it, you know. You’ll be horribly shocked, but I’ll tell 
you what Louie Preston did. There was a young man in 
the town whom slie had met at a picnic in the holidays — 
a clerk he was, at the bank — and he used to put notes to 
her under the cushions at church; but one unlucky Sun- 
day Louie had a cold, and didn’t go, and she told Mabel 
Blisset to bring it, and Mabel didn’t understand the light 
place, and went poking about, so that Miss Dormer found 
it out, and there was such a row!” 

Wasn’t that rather vulgar?” said Dolores. 

•MVell, he was only a clerk, but he was a duck of a 
man, with regular auburn hair, you know. And he sung! 
We used to go to the Choral Society concerts, and he sung 
ballads so beautifully, and always looked at Louie!” 

should not care for anything of that sort,” said 
Dolores. I think it is bad form.” 

So it is,” said Constance, seriously, ‘^only one can’t 
help recollecting the fun of the thing, and what one was 
driven to in those days. Is there any one you are anxious 
to correspond with?” 

'^Not in particular; only I can’t bear to have Aunt 
Lilias meddling with my letters; and there’s a poor uncle 
of mine that I know would not like her, or any of the 
Mohuns, to see his letters.” 

‘^Indeed! Your poor mamma’s brother?” cried Con- 
stance, full of curiosity. 

"" Mind, it is in confidence. Y^ou must never tell any 
one.” 

Never. Oh, you may trust me!” cried Constance. 

'‘Her half-brother,” said Dolores; and the girl pro- 
ceeded to tell Constance what she had told Maude Sefton 
about Mr. Blinders, and how her mother had been used to 
assist him out of her own earnings, and how he had met 
her at Exeter Station, and was so disappointed to have 
missed her father. Constance listened most eagerly, 
greatly delighted to have a secret confided to her, and 
promising to keep it with all her might. 

" And now,” said Dolores, " what shall I do? If poor 
Uncle Alfred writes to me. Aunt Lilias will have the letter 
and read it, and the Mohuns are all so stuck up; they 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


89 


will despise him, and very likely she will never let me 
l)ave the letter.” 

‘^Yes, but, dear, couldn’t you write here, with my 
things, and tell him how it is, and tell him to write under 
cover to me?” 

"‘ Dear Connie! How good you are! Yes, that would be 
quite delightful!” 

All the confidences and all the caresses had, however, 
taken quite as long as the G.F.S. class, and before Con- 
stance had cleared a space on the table for Dolores’ let- 
ter, there was a summons to say that Gillian was ready to 
go home. 

‘SSo early!” said Constance. thought you would 
have had tea and stayed to evening service.” 

‘‘ I should like it so much , cried Dolores, remembering 
that it would spare lier the black oxen in the cross-path, 
as well as giving her the time with her friend. 

So they went down with the invitation, but Gillian 
replied that mamma always liked to have all together for 
the Catechism, and that she could not venture to leave 
Dolores without special permission. 

“Quite right, my dear,” said Miss Hacket. “Connie 
would be very sorry to do anything against Lady Merri- 
field’s rules. We shall see you again in a day or two.” 

xAnd this is the way in which Constance kept her 
friend’s secret. When Miss Hacket had done her further 
work with a G.F.S. young woman who needed private in- 
struction to prepare her for baptism, the two sisters sat 
down to a leisurely tea before starting for evensong; in 
the fi.-st place, Constance detailed all she had discovered 
as to the connection with Lord Eotherwood, in which 
subject, it must be confessed, good Miss Hacket took a 
lively interest, having never so closely encountered a live 
marquis, “and so affable,” she contended, upon which 
Constance declared that they were all stuck-up, and were 
very unkind and hard to poor darling Dolores. 

I don’t know. I can not fancy dear Lady Merrifield 
being unkind to anyone, especially a dear girl as good as 
an orphan,” said Miss Hacket, wlio, if not the cleverest 
of women, was one of the best and most warm-hearted. 
“ And, indeed, Connie, I don’t think dear Gillian and 
Mysie feel at all unkindly to their cousin.” 

'“'Ah! that’s just like you, Mary. You never see 


90 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 


more than the outside, but then I am in dear Dollj's 
couhdence.” 

“ What do you mean, Connie?” said Miss Haeket, 
eagerly. 

Constance had come home from school witli the repu- 
tation of being niucli more accomplished than her elder 
sister, who had grown up while her father was a curate 
of very straightened means, and thins, though her junior ■ 
she was thought wonderfully superior in discernment and 
everything else. 

“ Well,” said Constance, what do you think of Lady 
Merrifield sending her to bed for staying late here that 
morning?” 

That was strict, certainly; but you know she sent 
Mysie too. It was all my own thoughtlessness for detaining 
them.” said the good elder sister. was so grieved!” 

“ Yes,” said Constance, it sounds all very well to say 
Mysie was treated in the same way, but in the afternoon 
Mysie was allowed to go and make messes with black- 
berry jam, while poor Dolly was kept shut up in the 
school- room !” 

Constance did not like Lady Merrifield, who had uncon- 
sciously snubbed some of lier affectations, and nipped in 
the bud a flirtation with Harry, besides calling off some 
of the curates to be helpful. But Miss Haeket admired 
her neighbor as much as her sister would permit, and 
made answer: 

It is so hard to judge, my dear, without knowing alL 
Perhaps iMysie had finished her lessons.” 

“Ah! I know you always are for Lady Merrifield! But 
what do you say, then, to her prying into all that poor 
child’s correspondence?” 

“My dear, I think most people do think it advisable to 
have some check on young girls’ letters. Perhaps Doloi'es’^ 
father desired it.” 

“ He never put on any restrictions,” said Constance, 
“lamsuj-ehe never would. Men don’t. It is always 
women, with their nasty, prying, tyrannous instincts.” 

“1 am sine,” returned Mary, “one would not think 
a child like Dolores Mohiln could have anvthins: to con- 
ceal.” 

“ But she has!” cried Constance. 

“No, my dear! Impossible!” exclaimed Miss Haeket^ 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


91 


looking very mncli shocked. “ Why, she can’t be four- 
teen !” 

“Oh! it is notliing of that sort. Don’t tliink about 
that, Mary.” 

“No, no, I know, Connie dear; yon would never listen 
to any young girl’s confidence of that kind — so improper 
and so vulgar,” said Miss Ilacket, and Constance did not 
tinnk it necessary to reveal her knowledge of the post-office 
under tlm cushions at church, and otlier little affairs of 
that sort. 

“ It is her uncle,” said Constance. “ Her mother, it 
seems, though quite a lady, was the daughter of a pro- 
fessor, a very learned man, very distinguished, and all that, 
but not of high family enough to please the Mohuns, and 
they never were friendly with her, or treated her as an 
equal.” 

That couldn’t h.ave been Lady Merrifield,” persevered 
Miss Hacket. “ She lamented to me herself that she had 
been out of England for so many years that she had 
scarcely seen Mrs. Maurice Mohun.” 

“ Well, there were the Miss i\Iohuns and all the rest!” 
said Constance. “ Why, Dolores has onl}?^ once been at 
the family ])lace. And her mother had a brother, an au- 
thor and a journalist, a very clever man, .and the Mohuns 
have always regularly persecuted him. He has been very 
unfortunate, and Mrs. Maurice Mohun has <lone h.er ut- 
most to help him, writing in periodicals and giving the 
proceeds to him. Wasn’t that sweet? And now Dolores 
feels quite cut off from him; and she is so fond of him, 
poor darling, for her mother’s sake.” 

Tender-hearted as Miss Hackct was, she had seen 
enough of life to have some inkling of what being very 
unfortunate might sometimes mean. 

“I should think,” she said, “that Lady Merrifield 
would never withhold from the child any letter it was 
proper she should have, especially from a relation.” 

“ Yes, but I tell you she did keep back a letter on the 
festival day till she had looked at it. Poor Dolores saw 
it come, and she saw a glance pass between her and Miss 
Mohun, and she is quite sure, she says, her Aunt Jane 
iiad been poisoning her mind about this jioor persecuted 
uncle, and that she shall never be allowed to hear from 
liim.” 


1)2 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


I don’fc suppose there can be much for iiim to say to 
her/' said Miss Racket. Then, after a little reflection, 

Connie, my dear, I really think you had better not in- 
terfere. There may be reasons that this poor child knows 
nothing about for keeping her aloof from this uncle.” 

‘‘Oh! but her mother helped him.” 

“She was his sister. That was quite another thing. 
Indeed, Connie,” said Miss Racket, more earnestly, *‘I 
am quite sure that you will use your influence — and you 
have a great deal of influence, you know— most kindly by 
persuading this dear cliild to"be happy with the Merri- 
fields and submit to their arrangements.” 

“ You are infatuated with Lady Merrifield,” muttered 
Constance. “ Ah! how little you know!” 

Here the first warning note of the bell ended the dis- 
cussion, and Constance did not think it necessary to tell 
her sister of the offer she had made to Dolores. In her 
eyes, Mary, who was the eldest of the family, had always 
been of the dull, grown-up, authoritative faction of the 
elders, while she herself was still one of the sweet junior 
party, full of antagonism to them, and ready to elude 
them in any way. Besides, she had promised her darling 
Dolores; and the thing was quite romantic; nor could 
any one call it blameworthy, since it was nothing like a 
lover — not even a young man, but only a persecuted uncle 
in distress. 

So she awaited anxiously the next Sunday when Do- 
lores' letter was to be written in her room. To tell the 
truth, Dolores could quite as easily have written in her 
own, and brought down the letter in her pocket, if she 
had been eager about the matter; but she was not, except 
under the influence of making a grievance. She had 
never written to Uncle Afred in her life, nor he to her; 
and his visits to her mother iiad always led to something 
uncomfortable. Nor would she have thought about the 
subject at all if it had not been for the sore sense that she 
was cut off from him, as she fancied, because lie belonged 
to her mother. 

Nothing particular had happened that week. There 
had been no very striking offenses one way or the other; 
she was working better with her lessons and understand- 
ing more of Miss Vincent's methods. She perceived that 
they were thorough, and respected them accordingly, and 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


93 


she had had the great satisfaction of getting more good 
marks for French and German tluAi Mysie. She had be- 
come interested in Old Oak Staircase,” and begun 

to look forward to Aunt Lily's readings as the best part of 
the day. But she had not drawn in the least nearer to 
any of the family. She absolutely disliked, almost hated, 
the quarter of an hour which Aunt Lily devoted to her 
religions teaching every moi-ning, though nobody was pres- 
ent, not even Primrose. She nearly refused to learn, and 
said as badly as possible the very small portions she was 
bidden to learn by heart, and she closed her mind up 
against taking in the sense of the very short readings and 
her aunt’s comments on them. It seemed to her to be 
treating her like a Sunday-school child, and insulting her 
mother, who had never troubled her in this manner. Her 
aunt said no word of reproach, except to insist on attention 
and accuracy of repetition; but there came to be an un- 
usual gravity and gentleness about her in these lessons, as 
if she were keeping a guard over herself, and often a 
greatly disappointed look, which exasperated Dolores 
much more than a scolding. 

Mysie had left off courting her cousin, finding that it 
only brought her rebuffs, and went her own way as before, 
pleased and honored when Gillian would consort with her, 
but generally pairing with her younger sister. 

Dolores, though hitherto ungracious, missed her atten- 
tions, and decided that they were “all falseness.” Wil- 
fred absolutely did tease and annoy her whenever he could, 
Fergus imitated him, and Valetta enjoyed and abetted 
him. These three had all been against her ever since the 
affair of the arrow; but Wilfred had not many o})portu ci- 
ties of tormenting her, for in the house tliere was a per- 
petual quiet supervision and influence. Mrs. Halfpenny 
was sure to detect traps in the passage, or bounces at the 
door. Miss Vincent looked daggers if other people’s les- 
son books were interfered witii. Mamma had eyes all 
round, and nobody dared to tease or play tricks in her pres- 
ence. Hal, Gillian, and even Mysie, always thwarted such 
amiable acts as putting a dead wasp into a shoe, or snap- 
})ing a book in the reader’s face; while, as to venturing 
into the general family active games, Dolores would have 
felt it like ru^iing into ti?corobboree of savages! 

There was one wet afternoon when they could not even 


94 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


get as far as to the loft over tlie stables; at least the little 
ones could not have done so, and it was decided that it 
would be very cruel to them for all the otliers to run off, 
and leave them to Mrs, Halfpenny; so the plan was given 
up. 

Partly because Lady Merrifield thoiiglit it very amiable 
in Mvsie and Valetta to make tlie sacrifice, and partly to 
disperse the thunder-cloud she saw gathering on Wilfred’s 
brow, she not only consented to a magtiificeut and ex- 
traordinary game at wolves and bears all over the Itouse, 
but even devoted herself to keeping Mrs. Halfpenny quiet 
by shutting herself into the nursery to look over all the 
wardrobes, and decide what was to “go down” in the 
family, and what was to be given away, and what must 
be absolutely renewed. It was an operation that Mrs. 
Halfpenny enjoyed so much, that it warranted her to be 
deaf to shrieks and trampling, and almost to forget the 
chances of gathers and kilting being torn out, and trap- 
doors appearing in skirts and pinafores. 

All that time Dolores sat hunched up in her own room, 
reading “ Clare; or, No Home,” and realizing the persecu- 
tions suffered by that afflicted child, who had just been 
nearly drowned in rescuing her wickedest cousin, and 
was being carried into her noble grandfather’s house, 
there to be recognized by her golden hair being exactly 
the color it was when she was a baby. 

4’here were horrible growlings at t imes outside her door, 
and she bolted it by way of prec-.iution. Once there was 
a bounce against it, but Gillian’s voice might be heard in 
the distance calling off the wolves. 

'Then came a lull, 4'he wolves and bears had rushed up 
and downstairs till thev were quite exhausted and out' 
of breath, especially as Primn^se luid always been a cub, 
and gone in the arms of Hal or Gillian; Fergus at last 
had rolled down tliree steps, and been caught by Wilfred, 
who, in his character of bear, hugged and mauled him 
till his screams grew violent. Harry had come to the res- 
cue, and it was decided that there had been enough of 
this, and that there should be a grand exhibition of tab- 
leaux from the history of England in the dining-room, 
wiiich of course mamma was to guess, with the assistance 
I'f any one who was not required to act. 

Mamma, ever obliging, hastily condemned two or three 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 


05 


sunburnt hats and ancient pairs of slices, to be added to 
the bundle for Miss Hacket's distribution, and let herself 
be hauled off to act audience. 

‘‘But where’s Dolly?” she asked, as she looked at the 
assemblage on the stairs. 

“Bolted into her room, like a donkey,” said Wilfred, 
the last clause under his breath. 

“ Indeed, mamma, we did ask her, and gave her the 
choice between wolves and bears,” said Mysie. 

“Unfortunately she is bear without choosing,” said 
Gill. 

“ A-sucking of her paws in a hollow tree,” chimed in 
Hal. 

“Hush! hush!” said Lady Merrifield, looking pained; 
“ perluips the choice seemed very terrible to a poor only 
child like that. We, who had ‘the luck to be one of 
many, aon’t know what wild cats you may all seem to 
her.” 

“She never will play at anything,” said Val. 

“ She doesn’t know how to,” said Mysie. 

“And won’t be taught,” added Wilfred. 

“ But that’s very dreadful,” exclaimed Lady Merrifield. 
“Fancy a poor child of thirteen not knowing how to 
play. I shall go and dig her out!” 

So there came a gentle tap at the closed door, to which 
Dolores answered — 

“ Can’t you let me alone? Go away,” thinking it a 
treacherous ruse of the enemy to effect an entrance; but 
when her aunt said: “Is there anything the n^atter, 
my dear? Won’t you let me in?” she was obliged to 
open it. 

“ No, tliere’s nothing the matter,” she allowed. “ Only 
I wanted them to let me alone.” 

“ 'Phey have not been rude to you, I hope.” 

Dolores was too much afraid of Wilfred to mention the 
bouncing, so she allowed that no one had been rude to 
her, but she hated romi)ing, which she managed to say in 
the tone of a rebuke to her aunt for suffering it. 

However, Aunt Lily only smiled and said: 

“ Ah! you have not been used to wholesome exercise in 
large families. I dare sjiy it seems formidable; but, my 
dear, you are looking quite pale. I can’t allow you to 
stay stuffed up here, poking over a book all the after- 


96 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


noon. It is very bad for you. We are going to have 
some historical tableaux. They are to liave one set, and 
I thought perhaps you and I would get up some for tliem 
to guess in turn.” 

Dolores was not in a mood to be pleased, but she did 
not quite dare to say she did not choose to make herself 
ridiculous, and she *knew there was authority in the tone, 
so she followed and endured. 

So they beheld Alfred watching tlie cakes before the 
bright grate in the dining-room, and having his ears beau- 
tifully boxed. Also Knut and the waves, which were 
graphically represented by letting the wind in under the 
drugget, and pulling it up gradually over his feet, but 
these” Mysie explained, were only for the little ones. 
Hollo and his substitute doing homage to Charles the 
Simple, were much more effective; as Gillian in tiiat old 
military cloak of her father’s, which had seen as much 
service in the ])lay-rooin as in the field,'Stood and scowled 
at Wilfred in the crown and mamma’s ermine mantle, be- 
ing overthrown by Harry at his full height. 

The excitement was immense when it was announced 
tliat mamma had a tableau to represent willi the help of 
Dolores, who was really warming a little to the interest 
of the thing, and did not at all dislike being dressed up 
with one of the boy’s caps with three ostrich feathers, to 
accompany her aunt in hood and cloak, and to be chal- 
lenged by Hal, who had, together with the bow and papa’s 
old regimental sword, been borrowed to impersonate the 
robber of Hexham. Everybody screamed with ecstasy ex- 
cept Fergus, who thought it very hard that he should not 
liave been Prince Edward instead of a stupid girl. 

So, to content all parties, mamma undertook to bring 
in as many as possible, and a series from the life of 
Elizabeth Woodville was accordingly arranged. 

She stood under the oak, represented by the hall chan- 
delier, with Fergus and Primrose as her infant sons, and 
fascinated King Edward on the rocking-horse, which was 
much too vivant. for it reared as perpendicularly as it 
could, and then nearly descended on its nose, to mark the 
rider’s feelings. 

Then, with her hair let down, which was stipulated for, 
though, as she observed, nothing would make it the right 
color, she sat desolate on the hearth, surrounded by as 


THE TWO - SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


97 


many daughters as could be spared from being spectators, 
as her youngest son was borne off from lier maternal arms 
by a being as like a cardinal as a Galway cloak, disposed 
tippet fashion, could make him. 

She could not be spared to put up her hair again before 
she had to forget her maternal feelings and be mere 
-audience, while her two sons were smothered by Mysie 
and Dolores, converted into murderers one and two by 
slouched hats. Fergus, a little afraid of being actually 
suffocated, began to struggle, setting off Wilfred, and the 
adventure was having a conclusion, which would have ac- 
counted for the authentic existence of Perkin Warbeck, 
when — oh horror! there was a peal at the door-bell, and 
before there was a moment for the general scurry, Herbert 
the button-boy popped out of the pantry passage and ad- 
mitted Mr. Leadbitter, to whom, as a late sixth standard 
boy, he had a special allegiance, and, having spied him 
coming, hurried to let him in out of the rain instantly. 

At least, such was the charitable interpretation. Harry 
strongly suspected that the imp had been a concealed 
spectator ail the time, and had particularly relished the 
mischief of the discomfiture, which, after all, was much 
greater on the part of the vicar than any one else, as he 
was a rather stiff, old-fashioned gentleman. Lady Merri- 
'field only laughed, said she had been beguiled into wet- 
day sports with the children, begged him to excuse her for 
a moment or two, and tripped away, followed by Gillian 
to help her, quickly reappearing in her lace cap as the 
graceful matron, even before Mr. Leadbitter had quite 
done blushing and quoting to Harry desipere in locOy^ 
as he was assisted off with his dripping, shiny waterproof. 

After all no harm would have been done if — Harry and 
Gillian being both off guard — Valetta had not exclaimed 
most unreasonably in her disappointment-^ 

I knew the fun would be spoiled the instant Dolores 
^came in for it.” 

Yes, Mr. Murderer, you squashed my little finger 
and all but smothered me,” cried Fergus, throwing him- 
self on Dolores and dropping her down. 

Don’t! don’t! You know you mustn’t,” screamed 
valiant Mysie, flying to the rescue. 

Murderers! Murderers must be done for,” shouted 
Wilfred, falling upon Mysie. 

4 


98 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


‘^You sha’ii’t linrt niy Mysie/’ bellowed Valetfca, hnri- 
ing herself upon Wilfred. 

And there they were all in a heap, when Gillian, sum- 
moned by the shrieks, came down from helping her 
mother, jinlled Valetta off Wilfred, Wilfred off Mysie, 
Mysie off Fergus, and Fergus off Dolores, who was- dis- 
discovered at the bottom with an angry, frightened face, 
and all her hair standing on end. 

“ Are you hurt, Dolores? I am very sorry,” said Gillian. 
“ It was very naughty. Go up to the nursery, Fergus 
and Val, and be made fit to be seen.” 

They obeyed, crest-fallen. Dolores felt herself all over. 
It would have been gratifying to have had some injury to 
complain of, but she had fallen on the princess cushions, 
and there really was none. So she only said, “ No, Dm 
not hurt, though it is a wonder;” and off she walked to 
bolt herself into her own room again, there to brood on 
Valetta’s speech. 

It worked up into a very telling and pathetic history 
for Constance’s sympathizing ears on Sunday, especially 
as it turned out to be one of the things not reported to 
mamma. 

And on that day, Dolores, being reminded of it by her 
friend, sent a letter to Mr. Flinders to the office of the 
paper for which he worked in London, to tell him that if 
he wished to write to her as he had promised, he must ad- 
dress under cover to Miss Constance Hacket, Casement 
Cottage, as otherwise Aunt Lilias would certainly read all 
his letters. 


CHAPTER fX. 

LETTERS. 

Constance Hacket was very much excited about the* 
address to Dolores’ letter to her uncle. She had not 
noticed it at the moment that it was written, but she did 
when she posted it; and the next time she could get her 
young friend alone, she eagerly demanded what Mr. 
Flinders had to do with the “ Many Tongues,” and why 
her niece wrote to him at the office. 

He writes the criticisms,” said Dolores, magnificent- 
ly; for though she despised pluming herself on any con- 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


99 


siection with a marquis, slie did greotly esteem that vvitli 
the world of letters. “ You know we are all literary.” 

Oil, yes, I kno\V! But what kind of criticisms do 
you mean? I su[)pose it is a very clever pa per. 

Of course it is,” said Dolores, “ but I don’t think T 
ever saw’ it. Father never takes in society papers. I 
b-dieve he does criticisms on plays and novels. I know he 
ahvays has tickets for all the theaters and exhibitions.” 

She did not say how she did know it, for a pang smote 
lier as she remembered dimly a scene, when her father 
had forbidden her mother to avail herself of escort thus 
obtained. Nor was she sure tlnat the word all was ac- 
curately the fact; but it was delightful to impress Con- 
stance, who cried, “ How perfectly delicious! I suppose 
lie can get any article into his paper!” 

Oh, yes, of course,” said Dolores. 

“ Did yonr dear mother write in it?” 

“ No; it was not her line. She. used to write meta- 
physical and scientific articles in the first-class review's and 
magazines, and the ‘ Many Tongues’ is what they call a 
society paper, you know.” 

“ Oh, yes, I know. There are charming things about 
the Upper Ten Thousand. They tell all that is going on, 
but I liardly ever can see one. Mary won’t take in any- 
thing but ‘Church Bells,’ and w'e get the ‘Guardian’ 
when it is a week old, and my brother James has done 
with it.” 

“ Dear me! how dreadful!” said Dolores, wdio had been 
used to see all manner of papers come in as regularly as 
not rolls. “Why, you never can know anything! We 
didn’t take in society papers, because father does not care 
for gossip or grandees. He has. qther pursuits. I can 
show YOU some of dear nfbtlier’s articles. There’s one 
-called ‘ Unconscious Volition,’ and another on the ‘ Pro- 
gress of Species.’ I’ll bring them down next time I come.” 

“ Have you read them?” 

“ No; they are too difficult. Mother was so very clever, 
yon know.” 

“She must have been,” said Constance, with a sigh; 
“ but how did she got them published?” 

“Sent them to the editor, of course,” said Dolores. 
“ They all knew her, and were glad to get anything that 
idle wrote.” 


100 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


•‘All! tluit is wluit it is to have an introduction/" 
siglied Constance. 

What! have you written any tiling?” cried Dolores. 

'' Only a few fittle trifles/’ said Constance, modestly. 

It’s a great secret, you know, a dead secret.” 

Oh! I’ll keep it. I told you my secret, you know, sa 
you might tell me yours.” 

And so to Dolores were confided sundry verses and tales 
on which Constance liad been wont to spend a good deal 
of her time in that pretty sitting-room. She had actually 
sent her manuscripts to magazines, but she had heard no 
more of one, and the otlier had been returned, declined 
with thanks — all for want of an introduction. Dolores 
was delighted to promise that as soon as she heard from 
Uncle Alfred she would get him to patronize them, and 
the reading occupied several Sunday afternoons. Dolores 
suggested, however, that a goody-goody story about a 
choir-boy, lost in the-snow would never do for the ‘^Many 
'i'ongues,” and afar more exciting one was taken uji, called 
^‘The Waif of the ^loorland,” being the story of a maiden, 
whom a wicked step-mother v/as suspected of mur- 
dering, but who walked from time to time like the 
‘‘Woman in White.” There was only too much time for 
the romance; for weeks passed and there was no answer 
from Mr. Flinders. It was possible that he might have 
broken off his connection with the paper, only then the let- 
ter would probably have been returned; and the other alter- 
native was less agreeable, that it was not worth his wiiile 
to write to his niece. While as to Maude Sefton, nothing 
was heard of her. Were lier letters intercepted? And so 
r!ie winter side of autumn set in. Hal was gone to Ox- 
ford, and there had been time for letters to come from ]\Ir.. 
Mohun, posted from Auckland, New Zealand, where ho 
had made a lialt with his sister, Mrs. Harry May, other- 
wise Aunt Phyllis. DolorevS was very much pleased to 
receive her letter and to have it all to herself; but, after 
all, she was somewhat disappointed in it, for there was- 
really nothing in it that might not liave been proclaimed 
round the breakfast-table, like the public letters from 
tliat quarter of the family who were at Rawul Pindee. It 
told of deep-sea soundings and investigations into the creat- 
ures at the bottom of the sea. of Portugese men-of-war, 
and Albatrosses; and there were some orders to scientific- 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


101 


instrument makers for her to send to them — a very im- 
proving letter, but a good deal like a book of travels. 
Only at the end did the writer say, hope my little 
daugh’^er is happy among her cousins, and takes care to 
give her aunt no trouble, and to profit by her kind care. 
Your three cousins here, Mary, Lily and Maggie, are ex- 
* ceedingly nice girls, and much interested about you; in- 
deed, they wish I had brought you with me.” 

Elt^lores read her letter over and over and over, for the 
pleasure of having something all to herself, and never 
communicated a word about the microscopic monsters her 
father had described, but she drew her head back and re- 
flected, He little know’s,” when he spoke of her being 
happy among her cousins. 

Lady Merrifield likewise received a letter, about which 
she did not say much to her children, but Miss Mohun, 
who had had a much longer one, came over for the day to 
read this to her sister. In point of fact, she had paired 
in childhood with her brother Maurice. She had been 
his correspondent in school and college days, and being a 
person never easily rebuffed, she had kept up more inter- 
course with him and his wife than any others of the fami- 
ly had done, and he had preserved the habit of writing 
to her much more freely and unreservedly than to any 
one else. So the day after the New Zealand letters came, 
just as the historical reading and needlework were in full 
force, the school-room door was opened, and a brisk little 
figure stood there in sealskin coat and hat. 

Up jumped mamma. ‘^Oh! Jenny! Brownie indeed! 
How did you come? You didn’t walk from the station?” 

Yes, why not? Otherwise I should have been too 
soon, and have disturbed the lessons,” said Aunt Jane, in 
the intervals of the greeting kisses. “All well with the 
Indian folks?” 

“Oh, yes; they’ve come back from the emerald valleys 
of Cashmere, and Alethea has actually sent me a prim- 
rose— just like an English one— that they found growing 
there. They did enjoy it so. Have you heard from Mau- 
rice?” 

“Yes, I thought you would like to hear about Phyllis, 
so, having enjoyed it with Ada, I brought it over for fur- 
ther enjoyment with you.” 

“That’s a dear old Brownie! We’ve a good hour bo- 


102 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


fore dinner. Shall we read it to tlie general public, or 
shall we adjourn to the drawing-room?” 

‘•Oh! 1 assure yon it is very instructive. Quite as 
much so as Miss Sewell’s ‘Rome.’” 

And Aunt Jane, whom Gillian had aided in disrobing 
herself of her out-door garments, was installed by the lire, 
and unfolded a whole volume of thin, mauve sheets in 
Mr. Mohun’s tiny Greek-looking handwriting. 

It was a sort of journal of his voyage. There were all 
the same accounts of the minute creatures that are in- 
ci])icnt chalk, and their exquisite cells, made, some of 
coral, some of silex sjiiculae from sponges; the same de- 
scriptions of pliosphorescent animals, medusae, and the 
like, that Dolores had thought her own special treasure 
and privilege, only a great deal fuller, and with the scien- 
tific terms untranslated — indeed. Aunt Jane had nowand 
then to stop and explain, since she had always kept up 
with the course of modern discovery. There was also 
much more about his shipmates, with one or two of whom 
j\Ir. Mohun had evidently made great friends. lie told 
his sister a great deal about them, and his conversations 
with them, wiiereas he had only told Dolores about one 
little midshipman getting into a scrape. Periuips nothing 
else was to be expected, but it made her feel the contrast 
between being treated with real confidence and as a mere 
child, and it seemed to put her father further away from 
her than ever. 

Then came the conclusion, written on shore: 

'Tlarry May came on board to take me home with him. He is 
a fine, irenial fellow, and his welcome did one’s heart good. I never 
<lid him justice before; but 1 see his good sense and superiority 
called into play out here. Depend upon it, there’s nothing like go- 
ing to the other end of the world to teach the value of honie ties.” 

. “ Well done, Maurice,” exclaimed Lady Merrifield; but 
she glanced at Dolores and checked herself. 

Miss Mohun went on: 

“Phyllis met me at the door of a pleasant, English-looking 
liouse, with all her tribe about her. She has the true ‘ honest Phyl ’ 
face still, carrying me back over .some thirty or forty years of life, 
and, as you would imagine, she is a capital mother, \vith all her 
flock well in hand and making themselves thoroughly useful in the 
scarcity Of servants, though the other matters do not seem neglected. 
1 he eldest can talk like a well informed girl, and shows reasonable 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


lOS 

interest in things in general; but Phyllis wants to put finishing 
touches to their education, and her husband talks of throwing up 
Ids appointment before long, as he is anxious to go home while Ids 
father lives. I wish 1 had gone to Stoneborough before coming out 
here, now that I see what a gratification itAvould have been if I 
could have brought a fresh report of old Dr. May. [Somehow I 
think there has been a numbness or obtuseness about me all these 
last two years which hindered me from perceiving or doing much 
that I now regret, since either the change or the wholesome atmos- 
phere of this iiouse has wakened nte, as it were. Among these un- 
gracious omissions is what I now am much concerned to think of — 
that I never went to see Lilias when I committed my child to her 
charge, nor talked over her disposition. Not that I really under- 
stand it as I ought to have done when the poor child wjis left to 
me. I take shame to myself when Phyllis questions me about l»er.] 
But as I watch these children with their parents I am quite con- 
vinced that the being taken under Lily’s motherly wing is by far the, 
best tiling that could have befallen Dolores, and that my absence 
is for ]»er real benefit as well as mine.” 

The part between brackets was omitted by Miss Mohim 
in the public reading, but the last sentence she did read, 
tlii liking it good for both parties to hear it. However, 
Dolores both disliked the conclusion to which her father 
liad come, and still more th;it her aunt and cousins 
should hear it, though, after all, it was only Gillian and 
Mvsie who remained to listen by the time the end of the 
leUer was reached. Tlie long words had friglitened away 
Valetta as soon as her appointed task of work was fin- 
ished. 

Aunt Lily did i.ot see the omitted sentence till the two 
sisrers were alone together later in the afternoon. It 
filled her eyes witli tears. “ Poor Maurice,’’ she said; 
“ lie wrote something of the same kind to me.” 

‘‘I expect we shall see him wonderfully shaken up and 
brigiitened when becomes liome. The numbness he talks 
of was iialf of it Mary’s dislike to us all, only I never 
wonhl let lier keep me aloof from him.” 

“ I almost wish he liad taken Dolores out to Pliyllis. I 
am not iirthe least fulfilling his ideal toward her.” 

“Nor would Pliyllis, unless tlie voyage had had as 
much effect on her as it seems to have had upon Maurice. 
So you don’t get on any better?” 

‘‘Not a bit. It is a case of parallel lines. We don’t 
often liave collisions— unless Wilfred gets an opportunity 
of provoking her.” 

Why don’t you send that boy to school?” 


104 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

I shall after Christmas. lie is quite well now, and 
to have him at home is bad both for himself and the 
others. He needs licking into shape as only boys can do 
to one another, and he is not a model for Fergus, 
especially since Harry has been away.” 

What does he do?” 

^^othing very brilliant, nor of the kind one half for- 
gives for the drollery of it. Putting mustard into the 
custard was the worst, I think; inciting the dogs to bring 
the cattle down on the girls when they cross the paddock; 
shutting up their books when the places are found — those 
are the sort of things; putting that very life-like wild cat 
€hauffe-pied with glaring eyes in Dolly’s bed. I believe 
he does such things to all, but his sisters would let him 
torture them rather than complain, whereas Dolores does 
her best to bring them under my notice without actually 
laying on information, which she is evidently afraid to do. 
It is very unlucky that her coming should have been just 
when we had such an element about — for it really gives 
her some just cause of complaint.” 

But you say he is impartial?” 

•^Teasing is unfortunately his delight. He will even 
frighten Primrose, but I am afraid there is active dislike 
making Dolores bis favorite victim; and then Val and 
Fergus, who don’t tease actively on their own account, 
have come to enjoy her discomfiture.” 

And you go on the principle of ^ tolerer beaucoiip f ” 

I do; hoping that it is not laziness and weakness that 
makes me abstain from nagging about what is not brought 
before my eyes by the children or the police — I mean Gill, 
Halfpenny and Miss Vincent. Then I scold, or I punish, 
and that I think maintains the principle, without danger 
to truth or forbearance. At least I hope it does. I am 
pretty sure that if I punished Wilfred for every teasing 
trick I know, or guess at, he would — in his present mood 
— only become deceitful, and esprit de might make 

Val and Fergus the same, though I don’t think Mysie’s 
truth could be shaken any more than honest Phyl’s.” 

“ Besides, mutual discipline is not a thing to upset. 
Lily, I revere you! I never thought you were going to 
turn out such a sensible mother.” 

^MVell, you see, the difficulty is, that what may work 
for one’s own children may not work for other people’s. 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


105 


And I confess I don’t understand her persistent repu.se of 
Mysie.” 

‘‘Nor of you, the nasty little cat!” said Aunt JanCy 
with a little fierce shake of the head. 

“I do understand that a little. I am too unlike Mary 
for lier to stand being mothered by me.” 

“ There must be some other influence at work for this 
perverseness to keep on so long. Tell me, did she take 
up with that very goosey girl. Miss Racket?” 

“ Oil, yes; she goes there every Sunday afternoon. It 
is tlie only thing the poor child se(?ms much to care about, 
and I don’t think there can be any harm in it.” 

“Rumpii! the folly of girls is unfathomable! Oli! 
you may say what you like — you who have thrown your- 
self into your daughters and kept them one with you. 
You little know in your innocence the product of an iil- 
m an aged board i n g-sch ool !” 

“ Nay,” said Lady Merrifield, a little hotly, “ I do 
know that Miss Racket is one of the most excellent people 
in tlie world, a little tiresome and hornee, perhaps, but 
thoroughly good, and every inch a lady.” 

“ Granted, but that’s not the other one — Constance is 
her name? My dear, 1 saw her goings on at the G.RS. 
affair — if she had only been a member, wouldn’t I have 
been at her,” 

“ My dear Jenny, you always had more eyes to your 
share than otlier people.” 

“And you think that being an old maid has not less- 
ened their sharpness, eh! Lily? Well, I can’t help it, 
but my notion is that the sweet Constance — whatever her 
sister may be — is the boarding-school miss a little further 
developed into sentiment and flirtation.” 

“ Nay, but that would be so utterly uncongenial to a 
grave, reserved, intellectual girl, brought up as Dolores 
has been.” 

“ Don’t trust to that! Dolores is an interesting orphan, 
and the notice of a grown-up young lady is so flattering 
that it carries off a great deal of folly.” 

“ Well, Jenny, I must think about it. I hope I have 
done no harm by allowing the friendship — the only in- 
dulgence she has seemed to wish for; and I am afraid 
checking it would only alienate her still more! Poor 
Maurice, when lie is trusting and hoping in vain!” 


106 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


Three years is a long time, Lilvj and yon have not 
bad three months of her yet — ’’ 

Tiie door opened at that moment for the afternoon tea, 
which was earlier tliaii usual, to allow of Miss Mohun s 
reaching the station in time for her train. L;idy Merri- 
field was to drive her, and it was the turn of Dolores to 
go out, so that she shared the reflection instead of wait- 
ing for gouter. In the midst the Miss Hackers were an- 
nounced, and there were exclamations of great joy at the 
sight of Miss Mohun; as slie and Miss Hacket flew upon 
each other, and to the very last moment, discussed the 
all-engrossing subject of G.F.S. politics. 

Nevertheless, while Miss Moliun was hurrying on her 
sealskin in her sister’s room, she found an opportunity 
of saying, Take care, Lily, I saw a note pass between 
those two.” 

My dear Jenny, how could yon? You were going 
on the wliole time about cards nml premiums and associ- 
ates. Oh! yes, I know a peacock or a lynx is nothing to 
yon, but how was it possible? Why, I was making talk 
to Constance all along, and trying to make Dolly speak 
of lier father’s letter.” 

“ I might retort by talking of moles and bats! Did. 
yon never hear of the London clergyman whose silver 
cream- jug, full of cream too, was abstracted by the peni- 
tent Sunday-school boy whom he was exhorting over his 
breakfast-table?” 

“I don’t believe London curates have silver jugs or 
cream either!” 

“A relic of past wealth, like St. Gregory’s one silver 
dish, and perhaps it was milk. Well, to descend to par- 
ticulars. It was done with a meaning glance, as Dolores 
was lielping her on with her cloud, and was instantly dis- 
posed of in the pocket.” 

‘‘I wonder what I ought to do about it,” sighed Lady 
Mcrri field, ‘Mf I had seen it myself I should liave no 
doubts. Oh! if Jasper were but here! and vet it is luirdiy 
a thing to worry him about. It is most likely to be quite 
innocent.” 

‘‘ Well, then, you can speak of the appearance of secre- 
cy as bad manners. You will have her all to yourself as 
yon go home.” 

But when the aunts came down-stairs, Dolores was not 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. lOT 

there. On being called, she sent a voice down, over the 
baliistei's. that slie was not going. 

Aunt Jane shrugged her siioulders. There was barely 
time to reach the train, so that it was impossible to do 
anything at the moment; but in the Merriheld family bad 
manners and disrespect were never passed over. Sir Jasper 
having made his wife very particular in that respect; and 
as soon as she came home in the twilight, she looked into 
tlie school-room, but Dolores was not there, and tlien into 
tlie drawing-room, where she was fotind learning her les- 
sons by firelight. 

“ My dear, who did yon not go with your Aunt Jane 
and me?” 

“ I did not want to go. It was so cold,” said Dolores 
in a glum tone. 

“ Would it not have been kinder to have found that out 
sooner? Jf I had not met the otiiers in the paddock, and 
picked u)) Valetta, the chance would have been missed, 
and you knew slie wanted to go.” 

Dolores knew it well enough. The reason she was in 
this room was that all the returning party had fallen upon 
her; Wilfred had called her a dog in the manger, and 
Gillian herself had not gainsayed him — but the general 
indignation had only made her feel, “ What a fuss about 
the darling.” 

“Another time, too,” added Lady Merrifield, “remem- 
ber that it would be ])roper to come down and speak to 
me instead of shouting over the balusters in that unman- 
nerly wav; without so much as taking leave of your Aunt 
Jane. If she had not been almost late for her train, I 
should have insisted.” 

“ You might, and I sliould not come if you had dragged 
me.” thought, but did not say, Dolores. She only stood 
looking dogged, and not attempting the “I beg your 
pardon,” for which her aunt was waiting. 

“I think,” said Lady Merrifield, gently, “that when 
you consider it a little, you will see that it would be well 
to be more considerate and gracious. And one thing 
more, my dear, 1 can have no passing of private notes be- 
tween you and Constance Hacket. You see a good deal 
of each other openly, and sucii doings are very silly and 
missish, and have an underhand appearance such as I am 
sure your father would not like.” 


108 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


Dolores burst out witli, I didn't,” and as Primrose at 
tliis instant ran in to help mamma take off her things, 
she turned on her heel and went away, leaving Lady 
Merrideld trusting to a word never hitherto in that house 
proved to be false, rather than to those glances of Aunt 
Jane, wliich had been always held in the Mohun family 
to be a little too discerning and ubiquitous to be always 
relied on; and it was a satisfactory rocollection that at 
the farewell moment when Miss Jane professed to have 
observed the transaction, she had been heard saying, 
** Yes, it will never do to be too slack in inquiring into 
antecedents, or the whole character of the society will be 
given up,” and with her black eyes fixed full upon Miss 
HackePs face. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE EVENING STAR. 

“ Oh, Connie dear, I had such a fright. Do you know 
you must never venture to give me anything when any 
one is there — especially Aunt Jane. I am sure it was her. 
She is always spying about?” 

‘‘ Well, but dearest Dolly, I couldn’t tell that she would 
be there, and when I got your letter I could not keep it 
back, you know, so I made Mary come up and call on 
Lady Merrifield for the chance of being able to give it to 
you — and I thought it was so lucky Miss Mohun was 
there, for she and Mary were quite swallowed up in their 
dearG.F.S.” 

‘‘You don’t know Aunt Jane! And the worst of it is 
she always makes Aunt Lilias twice as cross! I did get 
into such a row only because I didn’t want to go driving 
witli the two old aunts in the dark and cold, and be 
scolded all the way there and back.” 

“ When you had a letter to read, too!” 

“And then Aunt Lily said all manner of cross things 
about giving notes between us. I was so glad 1 could say 
I didn’t, for you know I didn’t give it to you, and it 
wasn’t between us.” 

“You cunning child!” laughed Constance, rather 
amused at the sophistry. 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


100 


Besides,” argued Dolores, what riglit has she to in- 
terfere between my uncle and my friends and me?” 

You dear! Yes, it is all jealousy!” 

I have heard — or I have read,” said Dolores, that 
when people ask questions they have no right to put, it is 
quite fair to give them a denial, or at least to go as near 
the wind as one can.” 

■ To be sure,” assented Constance, ‘‘or one would not 
get on at all. But you have not told me a word about 
your letters.” 

Father’s letter? Oh, he tells me a great deal about 
his voyage, and all the funny creatures they get up with 
the dredge. I think he will be sure to write a book about 
them, and make great discoveries. And now he is stay- 
ing with Aunt Phyllis, in New Zealand, and he is think- 
ing, poor father, how well oif I must be with Aunt Lilias. 
He little knows.” 

Oh, but you could write to him, dearest.” 

He wouldn’t get the letter for so long. Besides, I 
don’t think I could say anything he would care about. 
Gentlemen don’t, you know.” 

“ No. Gentlemen can’t enter into our feelings, or know 
what it is to be rubbed against and never appreciated. 
But your uncle. Was the letter from him?” 

“ Oh, yes! And where do you think he is? At Dar- 
minster — editing a paper there. It is called the ‘ Dar- 
minstor Politician.’ He said he sent a copy here.” 

“Oh, yes, I know; Mary and I could not think where 
it came from. It had a piece of a story in it, and some 
poetry. I wonder if he would put in my ‘ Evening Star.’ ” 

“You may read his letter if you like; you see he says 
he would run over to see me if it were not for the drag- 
ons.” 

“ I wish he could come and meet you here. It would 
be so romantic, but you see Mary is half a dragon her- 
self. and would be afraid of Lady Merrifield ” — then, read- 
ing the letter — “ How droll! how clever! What a delight- 
ful man he must be! How very strange that all your 
family should be so prejudiced against him! I’ll tell vou 
whaL Dolores, ^ subscribe for the ‘ Dar- 

in inster Politicia!! ’ my own self — I must see the rest of 
that story — and then Mary can’t make any objection; I 


110 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


can’t Stand never seeing anytliing but ‘Churcli Bells/ 
and rlien von can read it too, darling.” 

“Oh, thank yon, Connie. Then I shall have got him 
one subscriber, as he asks me to do. I am afraid 1 slia'n’t 
get any more, for I thought Aunt Lily was in a good 
humor yesterday, and I put one of the little advertise- 
ment papers he sent out on the table, and she found it, 
and only said something about wondering who had sejit 
the advertisement of that paper that Mr. Leadbitter didn’t 
approve of. She is so dreadfully fussy and particular. 
She won’t let even Gillian read anything she hasn’t looked 
over, and she doesn’t like anything that isn’t goody- 
goody.” 

“ My poor little darling! But couldn’t you write aiid 
get your uncle to look at some of my poor little verses 
that have never seen the light?” 

“ I dare say I could,” said Dolores, pleased to be able 
to patronize. ‘^Oh, but you must not write on both sides 
of the paper, I know, for father and mother were always 
writing for the press.” 

“ Oh, I’ll copy them out fresh! Here’s the 'Evening 
Star.’ It was suggested by the sound of the guns tiring 
at the autumn maneuvers; here’s the ‘Bereaved Mother’s 
Address to her Infant:’ 

“ Sweet little bud of stainless wdiite 
Thou’It blossom in the garden of light.” 

“Mary thought that so sweet she asked ]\Iiss Mohun 
to send it to ‘Friendly Leaves,’ but she wouldn’t — Miss 
xMohun I mean; she said she didn’t think tliey would 
accept it, and that the lines didn’t-scan. Now I’m sure its 
only Latin and Greek that scan! English rhymes, and 
doesn’t scan. That’s the difference!” 

“ To be sure!” said Dolores, “but Aunt Jane always 
does look out for what nobody else cares about. Still I 
wouldn’t send the baby-verses to Uncle Alfred, for they 
do sound a little bit goody, and the ‘ Evening Star ’ would 
be better.” 

The verses were turned over and discussed until the 
summons came to tea, poured out by kind old Miss 
Hacket, who had delighted in providing her young guests 
with buttered toast and tea cakes. 

Dolores went home quite exhilarated and unusually 
amiable. 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


Ill 


Her letter to lier father was finislied the next day. It 
contained the followinor information : 

‘‘ Uncle Alfred is at Darminster. He is sub-editor to the ‘ Poli- 
tician,’ the Liberal county paper T do not suppose Aunt Lilias will 
let me see him. for she does not like anything Unit dear mother did. 
There is a childisli, obsolete tone of mind here; I suppose it is be- 
cause they have never lived in London; and the children are all so 
young of their age, and so rude, Wilfred most especially. Even 
Gillian, who is sixteen, likes quite childish games, and Mysie, who 
is my age, is a mere child in tastes, and no companion. I do wish 
I could have gone with you.” 

Lady Merrifield wrote by the same mail: 

“ Your Dolores is quite well, and shows herself both clever and 
well taught. ^liss Vincent thinks highly of her abilities, and gets 
on with her better than anyone else, except the daughter of our 
late vicar, for wliom she has set up a strotig girlish friendship. She 
plainly has very deep affections, which are not readily transferred 
to new claimants; but I feel sure that we shall get on in time.” 

Miss Moluin wrote: 

"Lily and I enjoyed your letter together. Doll}'- looks all the 
better for countrv life, though I am afraid she has not learned to 
relish it. nor to assimilate with the Merrifield children, as I expect- 
ed. I don’t think Lily has quite fathomed her as yet, but ' edd vi- 
endra,’ with patience, only mayhap not without a previous explosion. 

I fancy it takes a long time for an only child to settle in among a 
large family. It was a great pity you could not see Lily yourself. 
To my dismay, I encountered Flinders in the street at Darminster 
last week. I believe he is on the staff of a paper there. Happily, 
Dolly does not know' it, nor do I think he knows where she is.” 

In anotlier tliree weeks, Constance was in the utmost 
elation, for “On liearing the cannonade of the Antnmii 
Maneuvers” was in print, and Miss Racket was so much 
deliglited that justice should be done to lier sister’s 
abilities, that she forgot Mr. Leadbitter’s disapproval, 
and ordered half a dozen copies of the “ Politician ” for 
the present, and one for the future. 

Dolores, walking home in the twilight, could not help 
showing Gillian, in confidence, the precious slip, though 
it was almost too dark to read tlie small type. 

“Newspaper poetry, I tliought that always was trump- 
ery,” said Gillian, making a youthfully sweeping assertion. 

“ Many great poets liave begun with the periodical 
press,” said Dolores, picking up a sentence which she had 
somewhere read. 


112 


THE T^yO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


^‘1 thouglit 3 ’on iiated Englisli poetry, Dolly! You 
always grumble at liaving to learn it.’’ 

“ Oh, that is lessons.” 

‘ II Penseroso,’ for instance.” 

“ This is a very different thing.” 

That it certainly is,” said Gillian, beginning to 
read : 

‘ How lovely mounts the evening star 
Climbing the sunset skies afar.’ 

What a wonderful evening! Why, the evening star 
was going up backward!” 

You only want to make nonsense of it.” 

“ It is not I that make nonsense!” said Gillian. Why, 
don’t you see, Dolly, which way the sun and everything 
moves?” 

This is the evening star,” said Dolores, sulkil}^ It 
was just rising.” 

‘^1 do believe you think it rises in the west.” 

You always see it there. You showed it to me only 
last Sunday.” 

Do you think it had just risen?” 

Of course the stars rise when the sun sets.” 

Gillian could hardly move for laughing. ‘^My dear 
Dolores, you to be daughter to a scientific man! Don’t 
you know that the stars are in the sky, going on all the 
time, only we can’t see them till the sunlight is gone?” 

But Dolores was too much offended to attend, and only 
grunted. She wanted to get the cutting away from 
Gillian, but there was no doing so. 

“ ‘ The mist is rising o’er Hie mead, 

Witli silver hiding grass and reed; 

’Tis silent all, on hill and heath, 

The evening winds, they hardly breathe; 

What sudden breaks the silent charm, 

The echo wakes with wild alarm. 

With rapid, loud, and furious rattle, 

Sure ’tis the voice of deadly battle, 

Bidding the rustic swain to fly 
Before his country’s enemy.’ 

Did anybody ever hear of a sham fight in the even- 
ing?” cried the soldier’s daughter indignantly, ‘‘There, 
I can’t see any more of it.” 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


m 

Give it to me, then.” 

‘‘You are welcome! Where did it come from? Let 
nie look. C. H. Oh, did Constance Ilacket write it? 
Nobody else could be so delicious, or so far superior to 
MiltonV’ 

You knew it all the time, and that was the reason 
you made game of it.” 

‘^No, indeed it was not, Dolores. I did not guess. 
You should have told me at first.” 

You would have gone on about it all the same.” 

‘‘No, indeed, I hope not. I did not mean to vex you; 
but how was I to know it was so near your heart?” 

“I ought to have known better than to have shown it 
to you! You are always laughing at her and me all over 
the house — and now — ” 

“ Come, Dolly. I never meant to hurt your feelings. 
I will promise not to tell the others about it.” 

No answer. There was something hard and swelling 
in Dolores’ throat. 

“Won’t that do?” said Gillian. “You know I can’t 
say that I admire it, but I’m sorry I hurt you, and I’ll 
take care the others don’t tease you about it.” 

Dolores made hardly any answer, but it was a sort of paci- 
fication, and Gillian said not a word to the younger ones* 
Still she thought it no breach of her promise, when they 
were all gone to bed, and she the sole survivor, to tell her 
mother how inadvertently she had affronted Dolores by cut- 
ting up the verses, before she knew whose they were. 

“ I am sorry,” said Lady Merrifield. “ Anything that 
tends to keep Dolores aloof from us is a pity.” 

“ But, mamma, I had no notion whose they were.” 

“ You saw that she was pleased with them.” 

“ Yes, but that was the more ridiculous. Fancy the 
evening star climbing up — up — yon know in the sunset!” 

“ Portentous, certainly! Yet still I wish you could have 
found it in your heart to take advantage of any feeler 
toward sympathy.” 

How could i pretend to admire such stuff?” 

“ You need not pretend; but there are two ways of tak- 
ing hold of a thing without being untrue. If you had 
been a little wiser and more forbearing you need not have 
given Dolores such a shock as would drive her in upon 


114 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


herself. Depend upon it, the older yon grow, the more 
dangerous yon will find it to begin l)y hitting the blots.’’ 

Gillian looked on in some curiosity when the next day 
good Mivss Hacket, enchanted with her dear Connie’s suc- 
cess, trotted II {) to display the lines to Lady Merri field, 
wiio on her side felt bound to set an example alike of ten- 
derness and sincerity, and was glad to be able to observe, 
‘^The lines run very smoothly. This must be a great 
pleasure to her.” 

“ Indeed it is! Connie is so clever. I always say I 
can’t think where she get it from; but we always tried to 
give iier every advantage, and she was quite a favorite 
pupil at Miss Dormer’s. Is not it a sweet idea, the still- 
ness of the evening broken by the sounds of battle, and 
then it proving to be only our brave defenders?” 

Yes,” was the answer. ‘‘ I have often thought of 
that, and of what it might be to hear those volleys of 
musketry in earnest. It has made me very thankful.” 

So Miss Hacket went away gratified, and Gillian 
owned tliat it would have been useless to wound tiiegood 
lady’s feelings by criticism, though her mother made her 
understand that if her opinion had been asked, or Con- 
stance herself had shown the verses, it would have been 
desirable to point out the faults, in a kindly spirit. The 
wonder was, how they could have found their way into 
the paper, and they were followed by more with the like 
signature. 

Indeed, the great sensational tale, The Waif of the 
Moorland,” was being co)>ied out of the books where it 
had been first written. Dolores had sounded Mr. Flin- 
ders on the subject, and he had rejilied that he could in- 
sure its consideration by a publisher, but that her fair 
friend must be aware that an untried author must be pre- 
pared for some risk. 

Constance could hardly abstain from communicating 
lier ho})es to her sister; but Mr. Leadbitter — to whom the 
poetry was duly sliown — liad given such a character of 
the “ Darminster Politician ” that Miss Hacket besought 
Constance to have no more to do with it. Besides, she 
was so entirely a lady, and so conscientious, that ail her 
tender blindness would not have prevented her from be- 
ing shocked at encouraging, or profiting by, a surrepti- 
tious correspondence. 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


115 


Constance declared tliat Mr. Leadbitter’s objection to 
the paper was merely political, and lier sister was too 
willing that she should be gratified to protest any further* 
The copying had to be done in secret, since it was impos- 
sible to confess the hopes founded on Mr. Flinders, and 
it therefore lasted several weeks, each fresh })ortion being 
communicated to Dolores on Sunday- afternoons. There 
w'ere at first a few scruples on Constance’s part wliether 
this were exactly a Sunday occupation; but Dolores j)ro- 
nounced that ‘‘ tlie Sabbatarian system was gone out,” 
and after Constance had introduced the ghostly <louble of 
her vanished waif walking in a surpliced jirocession, she 
persuaded herself that there was a sufficient aroma of re- 
ligion about the story to bring it within the pale of Sun- 
day books. 

The days were shortening so that Lady Merrifield had 
doubts as to ti»e fitness of letting the girls return in the 
dark, but Gillian would have been grieved to relinquish 
her class, and the matter was adjusied by the two re- 
maining till evensong, when there was sure to be suffi- 
cient escort for them to come home with. 

Therewith ai’rived the liolidays and Jasper, whose age 
came between those of Gillian and Mysie. Dolores had 
looked forward to his coming, for, by all the laws of fic- 
tion, lie was bound to be the champion of the orphan 
niece. «‘ind finely to develop info her lover and hero. In 

No Home,” when Clare’s aunt locked her up and fed 
her on bread and water for playing the jiiano better than 
her spiteful cousin Augusta, Eric, the boy of the family, 
had solaced her with cold pie and ice-creams drawn up in 
a basket by a cord from the window. He had likewise 
forced from his cruel mother tiie locket which proved 
Clare’s identity with the mourning countess’s golden- 
haired grandchild and heiress, and he had finally been 
rewarded with her hand, becoming in some mysterious 
manner Lord Eric. 

Jasper, however, or Japs, as his family preferred to call 
him, proved to be a big, shy boy, not at all delighted with 
the introduction of a stranger among his sisters, neither 
golden-haired nor all-accomplished, only making him feel 
his home invaded, and looking at him with her great 
eyes. 


116 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


Is that girl here for good?’’ he asked, wlien he foiiiid 
iiimsolf with Harry and Gillian. 

Yes, of course,” said the cousin, while her father is 
away, and that is for three years.” 

Jasper whistled. 

“ Aunt Ada said,” added Gillian, ‘‘that if she got too 
tiresome, mamma had Uncle Mtpirice’s leave to send her 
to school.” 

“ That would be no good to me,” said Jasper, “for she 
would still be here in the holidays.” 

“ Has she been getting worse?” asked Harry. 

“ No, I don’t know that she has,” said Gillian, “ex- 
cept that she runs after that Constance more than ever. 
But, I say, Jasper, mamma says she is particularly anxious 
that there should be no teasing of her; and you can hinder 
Wilfred better than anybody can. She wants her to be 
really at home, and one — ” 

But though Jasper was very fond both of mother and 
sister, he would not stand a second-hand lecture, and 
broke in with an inquiry about chances of rabbit-shooting. 

Among his juniors he heard more opinions and more 
undisguised, when the whole party had rushed out to- 
gether to the stable-yard to inspect the rabbits and other 
live-stock. 

“ And Dolly says you are a fright,” sighed Mysie, con- 
doling with a very awkward-looking puppy which she was 
nursing. 

“ Slie! she thinks everything a fright!” said Valetta. 

“Except Constance,” added Wilfred. 

“ Who is ugliest of all!” politely chimed in Fergus. 

“Oh, Japs, she is such a nasty girl — Dolly, I mean!” 
cried Valetta. 

“ You knoiv you ought not to say ‘ nasty,’ ” exclaimed 
Mysie. 

“Well, but she is!” insisted Val. “She squashed a 
dear little lady-bird, and said it would stitig!” 

“ She really thought it would,” said Mysie. 

At which the young barbarians shouted aloud with con- 
tempt, and Valetta added. “She is afraid of everything 
— ^cows and dogs and frogs.” 

“ I got a whole match-box full of grasshoppers to shut 
up in her desk and make her squall,” said Wilfred, “ only 
the girls went and turned them out.” 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


117 


. ‘‘ It was so cruel to tlie poor grasshoppers/’ said Mysie. 

One had his horn broken, and dragged its leg.” 

What does she dor” asked Jasper. 

She’s always cross,” said Fergus. 

And she won’t play,” added Valetta. And never 
will lend us anything of liers.” 

‘^^And she’s a regular' sneak,” said Wilfred. ‘‘She 
wants to tell of everything — only we stopped that, and she 
doesn’t dare now.” 

“ You see,” said Mysie, gravely, “she has always lived 
alone and in London, and that makes her horribly stupid 
about everything sensible. We thought we should soon 
teach her to be nice; and mamma says we shall if we are 
patient.” 

“ We’ll teach her, won’t we, Japs?” said Wilfred aside, 
in an ominous voice. 

“She is only thirteen,” added Valetta, “and she pre- 
tends to be grown up, and only to care for a grown-up 
young lady — that Constance Racket.” 

‘•'Yes,” added Mysie, “only think — they write poetry!” 

“ What rot it must be!” said Jasper. “ There’s a man 
in my house that writes poetry, and don’t they chaff him! 
And this must be ever so much worse.” 

“ Oh, that it is,” said Valetta. “I heard Mr. Poiilter 
and Miss Vincent laughing about it like anything.” 

“ But they get it put into print,” said Mysie, still im- 
pressed. “Miss Racket brought it up to give to mamma, 
and there’s ever so much of it shut up in the drawing- 
room blotting-book with the malachite knobs. I chu’d 
think why they laugh — I think it is very pretty. Old 
Miss Racket read me the one about ‘My Lost Dove.’” 

“ Mysie always will stick up for Dolores,” said Valetta, 
in a grumbling voice. 

“ I always meant her to be my friend,” said Mysie dis- 
consolately. 

“Well, I’m glad she’s not,” said Jasper. “What a 
sell it would have been for me to find you chummy with 
a stupid, poetry-writing, good-for-nothing girl like that, 
instead of my jolly old Mice!” 

And at that minute all Dolly’s slights were fully com- 
pensated for! 

There was a lurking purpose in the boys’ minds that if 
Dolores would not join in fun, yet still fun should be ex- 


118 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


tructed from her. Jaspei* liad brought iiome a box of 
J.»j):inese hre-works, and Wilfred, who was superintending 
its unpacking, ju-oposed to light the serpent and place it 
in Dolores’ path as she was going up to bed; but Jasper 
was old enough to reply that he would have no concern 
wii h anything so low and snobbish as sucii a triek. In 
fact, there was in Jasper’s mind a decided line between 
bullying and teasing, which did not exist as yet in Wil- 
fred’s conscience. And, altogether, Dolores was in a 
state of mind that made her stilf letters to her father be- 
tray low spirits and discontent. 

On Sunday, while waiting for the early dinner, Jasper 
and Mvsie happened to be together in the drawing-room, 
and Mysie took the opportunity of showing her brother 
tlie different cuttings of poetry. The lines were smooth, 
and some had a certain swin^ in them such as Mysie, witii 
an unformed taste, a love for Miss Hackct, and amaze- 
ment tliat the words of a familiar acquaintance of her 
own should appear in print, genuinely admired. But the 
eyes of a youth exercised in •‘chaffing” the productions 
of his fellow “ men ” were infinitely more critical. Be- 
sides, wluit could be more shocking to the general’s son 
than the confusion between the evening gun and the sham 
fight? And Mysie had been reduced to confusion for nob 
detecting the fault, and then pardoned in consideration 
of being only a girl, by the time the gong summoned them 
to the Sunday roast beefi 

The dinner over, the female part of the family scam- 
])ered headlong upstairs, while Harry repaired with his 
mother to her room to talk over a letter from his father 
respecting his plans on leaving Oxford. The other hoys 
hung about the hall, until Gillian and Dolores came down 
equipped for walking. “ Hollo, Gill! All right! Wlnne’s 
M ysie? We’ll be off! Mysie! Mice! Mouse! Val!” 

“ You must wait for them, Japs,” said Gillian. “ They 
are having their dresses changed; and, don’t you remem- 
ber, I always go to Miss Hacket’s?” 

“ Botheration! What for?” 

You know very well.” 

“ Oh, yes. To help her to write touching verses about 
the sweet dead dove, with voice and plumage soft as love, 
eh? Only, Gill, I’m afraid your memory is failing, if vou 
don’t know the evening gun from rifle practice.” 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


119 


Nonsense! Tliat’s no concern of mine/’ said Gillian, 
opening the front door, very anxious to get Dolores away 
from hearing anything worse. 

“ Oh, that’s your modesty. Only such a conjunction 
could have produced such a scene that the evening star 
came up backward to look at it!” 

For shame, Jasper! How in the world did you get 
hold of that?” 

'J'oo sweet a thing not to meet with universal fame,” 
said Jasper, to whom it was exquisite fun to assume tliat 
Gill ian devoted her Sunday afternoons to the concoction 
of such poetry with Constance Hacket, and thus to re- 
venge himself for his disgust and jealousy at having his 
favorite companion and slave engrossed. Wilfred hopped 
about like an imp in ecstasy, grinning in the face of 
Dolores, whom Gillian longed to free from her tormentors. 
The shout was welcome, as Mysie and Valetta came tear- 
ing down the drive after them. 

*‘Japs! Japs! Oh, we couldn’t come before, because 
nurse would make us take off our Sunday serges. Come 
<and let out the dogs. Mamma says we may see if there 
are any nice fir cones in the plantation to gild for the 
Christmas-tree.” 

‘‘And you won’t come?” said Jasper. “The Muses 
must meet. What a poem you will produce! 

“ Hear I a cannon or a rifle, 

That is an unessential trifle!” 

“What nonsense boys do talk!” said Gillian, turning 
her back on them with regret; for much as she loved her 
class, she better loved a walk with Jasper, and iiere was 
Dolores on her hands in a state of exasperation, believing 
her to have broken her promise, and muttering, 

“ You set liirn on.” 

“No, indeed I never did! You know I promised,” 

“There are plenty of ways of getting out of a promise.” 

“ Speak for yourself, Dolores.” 

There were ten minutes of offended silence, and then 
Gillian said, “This is nonsense! You may believe me, I 
was sorry I laughed at the first verses you showed me, and 
mamma said I ought not. We never spoke of it, but Miss 
Hacket has been giving mamma all the poems, and Jasper 
must have got at them. Don’t you see?” 


120 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


‘^Oh, yes, yon say so/'^ said Dolores, sulkily. 

You don’t believe me!” 

You promised that your brothers should never hear 
of it.” 

I promised for myself. I couldn’t promise for wiiat 
was put into a newspaper and trumpeted all over the 
place,” said Gillian, really angry now. 

Dolores could not deny this, but she was hurt by the 
word trumpeted; and besides, her own slippei'y behavior 
was weakening her trust in other people’s sincerity, and 
she only gave a kind of grunt; but Gillian, recovering 
herself a little, and remembering her mother’s words, 
proceeded to argue. “ Besides, it was me whom Jasper 
meant to tease, not you.” 

1 don’t care which it was. He is as bad as the rest 
of them!” 

Gillian attempted no more conciliation, and they ar- 
rived in silence at the Casement Cottages, where Con- 
stance was awaiting her friend in the greatest’exciternent; 
for she had dispatched ‘^The Waif of the Moorland ” to 
Mr. Flinders in the course of the week, and had received 
a letter from him in return, saying that a personal inter- 
view with the gifted authoress would be desirable. 

And I do long to see him; don’t you, darling?” 

‘^It is very hard that he should be kept away from 
me,” said Dolores, trying to stir up some tender feelings. 

‘‘That it is, my poor sweet! I thought whether he 
could come to me for a merely literary consultation with- 
out Mary’s knowing anything furtlier about it, and then 
we could contrive for you to come down and meet him; 
but there are so many horrid prejudices that I supjiose it 
would not be safe.” 

“ I don’t see how I could come down here without the 
others. Aunt Lily won’t let me come alone, and though 
it is holiday time, that is no good, for tliose horrid boys 
are always about, and I see that Jasper is going to be 
worse even than Wilfred.” 

Various ways and means were discussed, but no excuse 
seemed available for either Constance’s going to Dar- 
rninster, or for Mr. Flinders coming to Silverton, without 
exciting suspicion. 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


121 


CHAPTER XL 

SECRET EXPEDITIONS. 

The Christmas-tree! Oh, mamma, do let it be the ' 
Christmas-tree. It is quite well. We’ve been to look at 
it.” 

‘‘Christmas-trees have got so stale, \al,” said Gillian. 

“Rot!” put in Jasper. 

“ Oh, please, please, mamma,” implored Valetta, 

“ please let it be the dear old Christmas-tree! You said 
I should choose because it will be my birthday.” 

“ There is no need to whine, Val; you shall have your 
tree.” 

“Pm so glad!” cried Mysie. “The dear old tree is 
best of all. I could never get tired of it if I lived to be 
a hundred years old.” 

“Such are institutions,” said their mother. “I never 
heard of a Christmas-tree till I was twice your age.” 

“ Oh, mamma! how dreadful! What did you do?” 

“I suppose it is all very well for you kids,” said Jasper, 
loftily, putting his hands in his pockets. 

“ Perhaps something may be found interesting even 
to the high and mighty elders,” observed Lady Merri- 
held. 

“Oh! WJiat, mamma?” 

Mamma, of course, only looked mysterious. 

“ And,” added Val, “ mayn’t we all go on a secret ex- 
pedition and buy things for it?” 

“ We’ve all been saving up,” added Mysie; “and every- 
body knows every single thing in all the shops at Silver- 
ton.*'” 

“Besides,” added Gillian, “the sconces will none of 
them hold, and almost all the golden globes got smashed 
in coming from Dublin, and one of the birds has its head 
off, and another has lost his spun-glass tail, and another 
its legs.” 

“ A bird of paradise,” said Lady Merrifield, laughing; 

“ but wasn’t there a tree at Malta decked with no appa- 
ratus at all?” 

“ Yes, but Alley and Phyl can do nothing!” 


122 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


‘‘ I tnink we must ask Aunt Jane — ’’ 

Tliere was a howl. “Oli, please, mamma, don’t let 
Aunt Jane get all tire things! We do so want to choose.” 

.“You impatient monsters! You haven’t heard me out, 
and you don’t deserve it.” 

“Oh, mamma, I beg your pardon!” “Oh, mamma, 
please!” “Oh, mamma, ]>ray!” cried the most impatient 
howlers, dancing around her. 

“ What 1 was about to observe, before the interruption 
by the honorable members, was, that we might j^erhaps 
ask Aunt Jane and Aunt Ada to receive at luncheon a 
])arty of caterers for this Siime tree.” 

“01;! oil! oil!” “ How delicious!” “Hooray!” “That’s 
what 1 call jolly fun!” 

“ And, mamma,” added Gillian, “perhaps we might 
let Miss Haoket join. I know she wants to get up some- 
thing for a G.F.S. class;” but mamma was attending to 
Primrose, and the brothers bu”st in. 

“Theiegoes Gill, spoiling it all!” exclaimed Wilfred. 

“ That's always the way,” said Jasper. “Girls must 
puzzl(‘ everything up with some philanthropic Great Fuss 
Society dodge.” 

“ I am sure, oasper,” said Gillian, “I don’t see why 
it should spoil anything to make other peojile hajipy. I 
thought we were told to make feasts not only for our 
friends — ” 

“Gill’s getting just like old Miss Hacket,” said Wil- 
fred. 

“Or sweet Constance,” put in Jasper. “She’ll be 
writing poems next.” 

“ Hush! hush! boys,” said Lady Merrifield. “I do not 
mean to interfere with your pleasure, but I had rather 
our discussions were not entirely selfish. Suppose, Gil- 
lian, we walked down to Casement Cottages, and consulted 
Miss Hacket.” 

This was done, in the company of all the little girls, 
for Miss Hacket’s cats, doves, and ginger-bread were 
higlilv popular. Moreover, Dolores was glad of a chance 
sight of Constance. 

“My dear,” said Lady Merrifield, as Gillian walked 
beside her, “you must be satisfied with giving Miss Hacket 
the reversion of our tree, and you and iMysie can go and 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


123 


lielp licr. It will not do to make these kind of works a 
nuisance to your brothers.’’ 

I did not tliink Jasper would liave been so selfish as 
to object,” said Gillian, almost tearfully. 

Remember that boys have a short time at home, and 
can not be expected to care for these things like tliose who 
work in them,” said Lady Merrrfield. It will not make 
them do so, to bore them, and take away their sense of 
liome and liberty. At the same time, they must not ex- 
pect to have everything sacrificed to them," and so I shall 
make Jasper understand.” 

“ You Avon’t scold him, mamma?” 

Can’t you, any of you, trust me, Gill?” 

^^Oh! mamma! Only I didn’t want him to think I 
wouldn’t do everything lie liked, except that I don’t want 
him to be unkind about those poor girls.” 

Miss Hacket was perfectly enraptured at the offer of 
the reversion of the Cliristmas-tree and its trappings. 
Valletta’s birthday was on the 28th of December, and the 
tree was to be lignted on the ensuing evening foiythe G. 
F. S. Moi-eover, the party would go to Rockstone as soon 
as an appointment could be made with Miss Mohun, to 
make selections at a great German fancy sho)), recently- 
opened there, and in full glory; and the Hacket sisters 
were invited to join the party, starting at a cpiarter to 
eight, and returning at a few minutes after seven, the ele- 
ment of darkness at each end only adding to the charm 
in the eyes of the children, and Valetta, with a little leap, 
repeated that it would be a real secret expedition. 

‘‘ Very secret indeed,” said her mother, ^‘considering 
how many it is known to.” • 

“Yes, but it is, mamma, for everybody has a secret 
from somebody.” 

The words niade Constance and Dolores look round 
with a start from their colloquy under the shade of the 
window-curtains, but no one was thinking of them. Just 
as the plans were settled. Constance came forward, say- 
ing, “Lady IMerrifield, may I have Dolores to spend the 
day with nie? We neither of us wish to join your kind 
party to Rockstone, and we should so enjoy being to- 
gether.” 

“I had much rather stay.” added Dolores. 

“Very well,” said Lady Merrifield, reflecting tiiat her 


124 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 


sisters would be grateful for the diminution of the party, 
and that it would be easier to keep tlie peace without 
Dolores. 

The defection was hailed witli joy by her cousins, though 
they were struck dumb at her extraordinary taste in not 
liking shopping. 

Jasper did look rather small when his mother assured 
him in private lie might have trusted her to see that he 
was not to be incommoded with Gillian’s girls, and he 
only observed, in excuse for his murmurs, that it made a 
man mad to see his sisters always off after some charity 
fad or other. 

^Always ’ being a few hours once a week,” she said. 

Just when one wants her.” 

‘‘Look here, my boy,” she said, “you don’t want your 
sisters to be selfish, useless, fine ladies — never doing any 
one any good. If they take up good works, they can’t 
drop them entirely to wait on you. Gillian does give up 
a great deal, and it would be kinder to forbear a little, 
and not treat all she does as an injury to yourself.” 

“ I only meant to get a rise out of her.” 

“ You are quite welcome to do that, provided it is done 
in good nature. Gill is quite sound stuff enough to be 
laughed at! But, T say, my Japs, I should prefer your 
letting Dolores alone; she has not learned to be laughed 
at yet, and has not come even to the stage for being 
taught to bear it.” 

“ She looks fit to turn the cream sour,” observed Jas- 
per. “I say, mamma, you don’t want me to go on this 
shopping business, do you?”- 

“ Not by any means, sir.” 

Happily, the chance of a day’s rabbit-shooting pre- 
sented itself at a warren some miles off, and Harry under- 
took the care of Wilfred, who gave his word of honor to 
obey implicitly and take no liberties with the guns. 
Fergus would gladly have gone with them, but he was 
still young enough to be sensible of the attractions of toy- 
shops. Only Primrose had to be left to the nurseiy, and 
there was no need to waste pity on her, for on such an 
occasion Mrs. Halfpenny would relax her mood, and lay 
herself out to be agreeable, when she had exhausted her 
forebodings about her leddyshi]i making herself ill for a 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 135 

week gann rampaging about with all the bairns, as if 
she was no better than one herself. 

‘^1 sliall let Miss Moliun do most of the rampaging, 
nurse; but, if it is fine, will you take Miss Primrose into 
the town and let her choose her own cards. I have given 
lier a florin, and if you make the most of that for her she 
will be as happy as going wfith us.’’ 

That I will, my ledd}^ Bairns is easy content when 
ye ken how to sort ’em.” 

"‘And, nurse, I believe there will be a box from Sir 
Jasper at the station. It may come home in the wagon- 
ette that takes us. Will you and Macrae get it safe into 
the store-room, for I don’t want the children to see it too 
soon ?” 

There was nothing but satisfaction in the house on the 
morning of the expedition. Tiie untimely candlelight 
breakfast was only a fresh element of delight, and so was 
the paling gas at the station, the round, red sun peeping^ 
out through a yellow break between gray sky and grayer 
woods; the meeting Miss Racket in her fur cloak, the 
taking of the tickets, the coughing of the tram, the 
tumbling into one of the many empty carriages, the tri- 
umphant start — all seemed as fresh and delicious as if the 
young people had never taken a journey before in all their 
lives. The fog in the valleys, the sleepy villages, the 
half-roused stations, all gave rise to exclamations, and 
nothing was regretted but that the windows would get 
clouded over. 

Even the waiting at the junction had its charms, for it 
was enlivened, by a supplementary breakfast on rolls and 
milk; and at a few minutes past eleven the train was 
drawing up at Rockstone, and Aunt Jane, sealskins and 
all, was beckoning from the platform, hurrying after the 
carriage as it swept past, and holding out a hand to jump 
the party from the door. There she was, ready to take 
them to the most charming and cheapest shops, where the 
coins burning in those five pockets would go the furtliest. 
Go in a cab? No, I thank yon, it is far more delightful 
to walk. So mamma and Miss Hacket were stowed away 
in the despised vehicle, to make the purchases that no- 
body cared about, or which were to be unseen and un- 
known till the great day; while Aunt Jane undertook ta 
guide the young people through the town, for her house 


126 


THE T^YO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


was at the ot'iier end of it, securing th.e Christmas-cards 
on the way, if nothing else. For, thougli all the cards 
and gifts to inurnina, and a good many besides, were of 
domestic manufa(;tnre, some had to be purchased, and she 
knew, til is wonderful woman, where to get cards of for- 
mer seasons at reduced prices to suit their youthful 
finances. 

Considerable patience was requisite before all the choices 
were made, and the balance cast between cards and ])res- 
ents, and Miss Mohun got her quartette past all tlie shop 
windows, to the sea-side villa, shut in by tamarisks, which 
Aunt Adeline believed to be the only place that suited her 
health. Mamma and Miss Hacket liad already arrived, 
and filled the little vestibule with parcels and boxes. 

Then the early dinner! The aunts had anticipated 
their Christmas turkey for that goodly company to help 
them eat it, but afterward there was only time for a 
mince pie all round; for more than half the work re- 
mained to be done by all except mamma, who would stay 
and rest with Aunt Ada, having finished all that could 
not be deputed. 

However, first she had a conference in private with 
Aunt Jane, who undertook therein to come to Silverton 
for Valetta’s birthday, and add astonishment and mystery 
sufficient to satisfy such of the public as were weary ot 
Christmas-trees. She added, however, You will think 
I am always at you, Lily, but did you know that Flinders 
is living at Darminster?” 

‘‘No; but it is five-and-twenty miles off, and he has 
never troubled ns.” 

“Don’t be too secure. He is in connection with that 
low jniper — the ‘ Politician ’ — which methinks is the ]>hice 
where those remarkable poems of Miss Constance’s have 
appeared.” 

“ Is it not the way of poetry of that caliber to see the 
light in county papers?” 

“ I’his seems to me of a lower caliber than is likely to 
get in without private interest.” 

“ But to my certain knowledge the child has neither 
written to, nor heard of the man all this time.” 

“ You don’t know what goes on with her bosom 
friend.” 

“ I am certain Miss Hacket would connive at nothing 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


127 


underhand. Besides, I liave never seen anything sly or 
deceitful in poor Dolores. She will not make friends 
with us, that is all, and that may be our fault.’’ 

“ I only say, look out, you unsuspicious dame!” 

Now, Jenny, satisfy my curiosity as to how you 
know all this. I am sure 1 never showed you those effu- 
sions. We have had trouble enough about them, for the 
children cut them up in a way Dolores has never for- 
given.” 

“ Oh! Miss Hacket sent them to me, to ask if ‘ Moll- 
sey to her Babe’ and ‘ The Canary’ might not be passed 
on to ‘ Friendly Leaves.’ And as to Flinders, wlien I went 
to the G.F.S. Conference at Darminster, I met the man 
full in the street, and, of course, I inquired afterward 
how he came there. So there’s nothing preternatural 
about it.” 

‘‘ It is well you did not live two hundred years ago, or 
you would certainly have been burned for a witch.” 

“See what a witch I shall make on the 28tl)l But I 
hear those unfortunate children dancing and prancing 
wit’n impatience on the stairs, I must go, before they 
have driven Ada distracted.” 

Wlnit would the two aunts have said, could they have 
seen Dolores and Constance, at that moment partaking 
of the most elaborate meal the Darminster refreshment- 
I’oorn could supply, at a little round marble table, in 
ooinj^any with Mr. Flinders! They had not been obliged 
to start nearly so early as the other party, as the journey 
was much shorter, and with no cliahge of line, so they 
had quietly walked to the station by ten o’clock, arrived 
at Darminster at half-past eleven, and had been met by 
the personage whom Dolores recognized as Uncle Alfred. 
Constance was a little disappointed not to see something 
more distinguished, and less flashy in style, but he was 
so polite and complimentary, and made such touching al- 
lusions to his misfortunes and his dear sister, that siic 
soon began to think him exceedingly interesting, and 
pitied him greatly when he said lie could not take them 
to Ids lodgings — they were not fit for his niece or her 
frietid, wlio had done liim a kindness for which he could 
never be sufficiently grateful, in affording him a glimpse 
of liis dear sister’s child. It made Dolores wince, for she 
never could bear the mention of her mother, it was like 


128 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


touching a wound, and the old sensation of discomfort 
and dislike to her uncle’s company began to grow over her 
again, now that she was not struggling against Moliim 
opposition to her meeting liirn. He lionized them about 
tlie town, but it was a foggy, drizzly day, one of 
tliose when the fi’inge of sea-coast often enjoys finer 
weather than inland places; the streets were very sloppy, 
and Dolores and Constance did not do much beyond pur- 
chasing a few' cards and some presents at a fancy sliop, as 
they had agreed to do, to serve as an excuse for their 
expedition in case it could not be kept a secret, and most 
of the visit was made in the w'aiting-roorn of the station, 
w walking up and down the platform. As to the grand 
point, Mr. Flinders told Constance that her tale was tal- 
ented and striking, full of great excellence; she might 
hope for success equal to Ouida’s — but that he had found 
it quite impossible to induce a publisher to accept a work 
by an unknown author, unless she advanced something. 
He could guarantee the return, but she must iiitrust him 
with thirty pounds. Poor Constance! it was a fatal blow; 
she had not thirty pounds in the world; she doubted if 
she could raise the sum, even by her sister’s help. Then 
Mr. Flinders sighed, and thought that if he represented 
the circumstances, the firm might be content with twenty 
— nay, even fifteen. Constance cheered up a little. She 
did think she could make up fifteen, after the 21st, wdien 
certain moneys became due, which she shared with her 
sister. She would he left very bare all the spring — but 
what was that to the return she was promised ? Only Mr. 
Flinders impressed on her the necessity of secrecy — even 
from her sister — since, he said, if he were once known to 
have obtained such terms for a young authoress, he should 
-be besieged forever! 

‘‘But, Uncle Alfred,” said Dolores, “surely my father 
und mother, and all the other people I have known, did 
not pay to get their things published.” 

“ My dear niece, you speak as one who has been with 
persons of high and established fame — the literary aris- 
tocracy, in fact. The doors once opened. Miss Hacket 
will, like them, make her own terms; but such doors, 
like many others, are only to be opened by a silver key.” 

There were other particulars which he talked over with 
the authoress in a promenade on the platform while Do- 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 129 

lores was left in the waiting-room; but afterward lie in- 
dulged his niece with a tete-a-tete, asking her fatlier’s 
address, and mourning over the length of time it would 
take to obtain an answer from Fiji. Mi\ Mohun had 
promised to help him, solemnly and kindly promised, for 
the sake of lier whom they liad both loved so much, and 
here he was, cut off, and quite in extremity. Unfortunate 
•as usual, through his determined enemies, a company in 
which he had shares had collapsed, he was penniless till 
his salary from the ^‘Politician’’ became due in March. 
Meanwhile, he should be expelled from his lodging and 
brought to ruin if he could not raise a few pounds — even 
one. 

Dolores had nearly two pounds in her purse. Her father 
bad left lier amply provided, and she had not much oppor- 
tunity of spending. She knew he had seen the gold when 
she was shopping, and when she had paid for the refresh- 
ments, which of course she had found she had to do. 
With some hesitation she said, “ If thirty shillings would 
be of any good to yon — ” 

“ My dear, generous child, your dear mother’s own 
daughter! It will be the saving of me temporarily! But 
iimong all your wealthy relatives, surely, considering your 
father’s promise, you could obtain some advance until he 
can be communicated with!” 

“If he is still in New Zealand, we could telegraph, and 
liear directl3\ He did not know how long lie should be 
there, for the ship had something to be done to it.” 

This did not suit Mr. Flinders. Such telegrams were 
very expensive, and it was too uncertain whether Mr. 
Mohun would be at Auckland. Surely, Lady Merrifield, 
whose husband was shaking the pagoda tree, would make 
an advance if she knew the circumstances. 

“I don’t think she would,” said Dolores, “I don’t 
think thev are very rich. There is only one horse and 
one little*^ poii)^, and my cousins have such very tiny 
allowances.” 

“ Haughty and poor! Stuck up and skimping. Yes, 
J understand. But I am not asking from her, only an 
advance, on your father’s promise, which he would be 
certain to repay. Yes, quite certain! It is only a matter 
of time. It would save me at the present moment from 
litter ruin and destruction that would have broken your 

5 


130 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


dear mother’s lieart. Oh! Mary, what I lost in you!’' 
Then, as perhaps he saw reflection on Dolores’ face, he 
added, “ She is gone, the only person who took an interest 
in me, so it matters tlie less, and when you hear again of 
your unhappy uncle you will know what drove him — 

If it was only an advance — T liave a check,” began 
Dolores. If seven pounds would do you any good — ” 

^^It would be salvation!” he exclaimed. 

^‘Father left it with me,” pursued Dolores, consider- 
ing, ‘Mn case Professor Miihlwasser went on with his 
great book of colored plates of microscopic marine 
zoophytes, and sent it in. I was to keep this and pay 
witli it — ” 

^^Oh! Miihlwasser! you need not trouble about him. 
I saw his death in the paper a month ago.” 

^‘Then I really think I might send you the check, and 
write to my father why I did so.” 

Ah! Dolly, I knew that your mother’s daughter could 
never desert me.” 

More followed of the same kind, tending to make 
Dolores feel that she was doing a lieroically generous 
thing, and stifling the lurking sense in her mind that she 
liad no right to dis[)ose of her father’s money without his 
consent. The December day began to close in, the gas 
was lighted, Constance was seen disconsolately peeping 
out at the waiting-room door to see whether the private 
conference were over. They joined her again, and Mr. 
Flinders discoursed about the envy and jealousy of critics, 
and success being only attained by getting into a certain 
clique, till she began to look ratlier frightened; but was re- 
assured by tlie voluble list of names and pajiers to which he 
assured her of recommendations. Tiien he began to be 
complimentary, and she, to put on the silly tituppy kind 
of face and tone wherewith she had talked to the curates 
at the festival. Dolores began to fitid this very dull, and 
to feel neglected, perhaps also cross, and doubts came 
across iier whether she might not get into a dreadful 
scrape about the money, whicli she certainly had no right 
to dispose of. She at last broke in with, Uncle Alfred,, 
are you quite sure Professor Miihlwasser is dead?” 

Bless your he.art, child, he’s as dead as Harry the 
Fighth,” said Mr. Flinders in haste; died at Berlin, of 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


131 


fatty degeneration of the heart. Well, as I was saying, 
Mis? Constance — ” 

“But, uncle, I was thinking — ” 

“Hush!” as a couple of ladies and a wliole train of 
nurses and children invaded the waiting-room, “it won’t 
do to talk of such little matters in })ublic places, you 
know. Would you not like a cup of tea, Miss Constance? 
Will you allow me to be your cavalku-?” 

People were beginning to arrive in expectation of the 
<2oming train, and talk was not possible in the throng; at 
least, Mr. Flinders did not make it so. At last the train 
swept up, and he was hurrying to find places for the 
ladies, wlien there was a moment’s glimpse of a handsome 
mustached face at a smoking-carriage window. •Doloi'es 
started, and had almost exclaimed, “Uncle Reginald;” 
bill before the words wei-e out of her month, Mr. Flinders 
liad drawn her on swiftly, among all the numbers of 
people getting out and getting in, hurled her into a dis- 
tant carriage, handed Constance in after her, and mutter- 
ing soinetiiing about forgetting an ajipointment, he 
vanished, without any of the arrangements about foot- 
warmers that he had promised. 

“Uncle Reginahi!” again exclaimed Dolores, “I am 
sure it was he!” 

“Oh dear! What an escape!” answered Constance, 
breathless with surprise, and settling herself with disgust 
and difficulty next to a fat old farmer, as three or four 
!nore people entered and jammed them close together. 

“ Wlio is he?” she presently whispered. 

“Colonel Mohun. His regiment is at Galway. I 
know he talked of getting over this winter if he })ossibly 
could; but Aunt Lily went away before the post was 
come in.” 

“ We shall have to take great care when we get out.” 

Here the train started, and conversation in undertones 
Recame impossible, more especially as two of the farmers 
in the carriage were coming back from the Smith field 
Cattle Show, and were discussing the prize oxen with all 
their might. It vvas very stuffy and close. Constance 
looked ineffably fastidious and uncomfortable, and Dolores 
gazed at the clouded window, and dull little lamp over- 
kead, put in to enliven the deepening twilight. This 
avoiding of Uncle Reginald brought more before her mind 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


13 -^ 


a sense of wrong-doing than anything that had gone be- 
fore. She was fond of this uncle, who always made her 
father’s house his head-quarters when in London, and 
used to play with her when she was a small child, and al- 
ways to take her to the Zoological Gardens, till she de- 
clared she was too old to care for such a childish show, 
and then he and her father both laughed at her so much 
that she would never have forgiven anybody else; and she 
found he enjoyed for his own sake far more than she did. 
However, he always did take her out for walks and sights 
that were sure to be amusing with him. Father, too, was 
quite bright and alive when he was in the house, and 
thus Dolores had nothing but pleasant associations con- 
nected \with this uncle, and had heard of the chances of 
his coming like a ray of light, though without much hope, 
since the state of Ireland had prevented him from being 
able even to run over to take leave of her father. And 
now he was come, she must hide from him like a guilty 
thing! There was no spirit of opposition against him in 
her mind, and thus she could feel that she was doing 
sometliing sad and strange. Moreover, she began to feel 
that her promise about the check had been a rash one, 
and the echo of her father’s voice came back on her, say- 
ing, ‘^Surely, Mary, you know better than to believe a 
word out of Flinders’s mouth.” 

But then she thought of her mother’s rare tears glisten- 
ing in her eyes, and the answer, Poor Alfred I I can 
not give him up. Everything has been against him.” 

It was quite dark before Silverton was reached, at half 
past five, with three quarters of an hour to spare before 
the other travelers were expected. Most of their follow 
- passengers had got out at previous stations, so that Con- 
stance was able to open the door and jump out so peril- 
ously before tlie train had quite stopped, that a porter 
caugiit her with a sharp word of reproof. Slie grasped 
Dolores’ hand and scudded across the platform, giving the 
return tickets almost before the collecior was ready. A 
cautious guard even exclaimed, What’s those two young 
women up to?” but was answered at once, They’re all 
right! Tliat’s naught but one of the old parson’s daugh- 
ters as have been out with a return to Darm’ster.” 

‘‘A sweetheartin’ ?” demanded one of the by-standcrs, 
and there was a laugh. 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


133 


Gonstunce beard the tones and vulgar laugh, though nob 
the words, and she was in such a panic as she hurried 
down the steps that she did not stop to look out for a cab. 
The place was small and the’y were not very plentiful at 
any time, and she was mortally afraid, though she hardly 
knew why, of being overtaken and questioned by Colonel 
Mohun, wlio might know his niece, though he would not 
know her; but Dolores was tired, and had a headache,, 
and did not at all like the walk in the dirt, and fog, and 
dark, after turning from the gaslit station. 

‘‘We were to have a cab, Constance.” 

“ We canT,” was the answer, still hurrying up. “ He- 
would come out upon us.” 

“ He is much more likely to overtake us this way!” said 
Dolores, thinking of her uncle’s long strides. 

“ Well, we can’t turn back now!” said Constance, vget- 
ting almost into a run, which lasted till they were past 
the paddock-gate. Dolores, panting to keep up with her,, 
had half a mind to turn up there and go straight home; 
but there might be any number of oxen in the way, and, 
almost worse, she might meet Jasper and Wilfred, or 
if Uncle Reginald overtook her, what would he think? 

The pair slackened their pace a little when they had 
satisfied themselves that the break in the dark hedge beside 
them was the gate. They heard wheels, and presently 
saw tlie lamps of a cab, bearing down, halt at the gate^ 
they had left behind, and turn in. 

“ We should have been off first,” said Dolores. 

“If we could have got a cab in time?” 

“ One can always get cabs^” 

“ Oh! no, not at all for certain.” 

“This is a nasty, stupid out-of-the-way place,” said 
Dolores, wanting to say something cross. 

“ It isn’t a vulgar place full of traffic,” returned Con- 
stance, equally cross, 

“Well, I never meant to walk home in this way! I’m 
sure my feet are wet. I wish I had waited and gone with 
Uncle Regie.” 

“Now, Dolly, what do you mean? You would nob 
have it all betrayed?” 

“ I’ve a great mind to tell Uncle Regie all about it.” 

“Now, Dolly! When you said so much about tho 
Mohun pride and scorn of your poor, dear uncle,” 


134 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


‘‘Uncle Regie is not proud. And he would know what 
to do.’’ 

“Rut,” cried Constance, in a frigdit, “you would never 
tell him! You promised that it should he a secret, and I 
should be in such a dreadful scrape with Lady iMerrilield 
and Mary.” 

“ Well, it was your doing, and you had all the pleasure 
of It. flourishing about the platform with him.” 

‘‘ How ctin you be so disagreeable, Dolores, when you 
know it was all on business, d’liough 1 do think he is the 
most interesting man I ever did see.” 

“Just because he flattered you.” 

However, there is no need to tell how many cross jtnd 
•quarrelsome things the two tired friends said to each 
other. They were sii ting on opposite sides of the fire, 
one very gloomy, and the other voit })ettish. when the 
wagonette stojiped at the gate, ta) jutt out Miss Hachet 
and take uj) Dolores. Hands fmlled her up the step, and 
a hubbub of merry voices received luu- in the dark. 

“Good gi>*l, not to keep us waiting.” 

“Oh, Dolly, Dolly, iflacrae says Uncle Regie’s come!” 

“ Oh, Dolly, It has been such fun!” 

“'I'ake care of my parcel!” 

Ah, ha! you don’t know wlnit is in there,” 

“Here is something under my feet.” 

“Oh! take care! ’Tisn’t my — ” 

“ Hush, hush, Val — ” 

And so it went on till on the steps was seen in full light 
nmong the boys. Uncle Reginald, ready to lift every one 
out with a kiss. 

“Ha! Dolly, is that you?” lie said, as they came into 
the hall. “I saw such a likeness of you at one station 
that I was as near as possible Jumping out to speak to her. 
She had on just that fur tipped” 

“That comes of living in Ireland, Regie,” said Aunt 
Lily. “ Once in a shop at Belfast, a lady darted up to 
me with, ‘And it’s I that am glad to see you, me dear. 
And how’s me sweet little goddaugiiter? Oh! and it 
isn’t yourself. And aren’t you Mrs. Phelim O’Shaug- 
nessy?’” And under cover of this, Dolores retreated to 
her own room. She took off her things, and then looked 
at the check. 

Professor Muhlwasser was a clever German, always at 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 


ia5 


work on science, counting, in the most minute and ac* 
curate manner, such details us the rays in the sea anem- 
one^s tentacles, or the eggs in a shrimp’s roe. He was 
engaged on a huge book, in numbers, of which Mr. 
Maurice Mohun had promised to take two copies — but 
whereas extravagances upon peculiar hobbies were apt noL 
to be tolerated in the family, and it was really uncertain 
whether the work would ever be completed, Mr. Mohun 
had preferred leaving a check for the payment in his 
little. daugh.ter’s hand, rather than intrust it to one of the* 
brothers, who would liave howled and growled at-such a 
waste of good money on such a subject. Thus he had 
told Dolores to back the draft, get it ciuinged, and send 
the amount by a postal order to Germany, if the books 
and account should come, which he thought very doubt- 
ful. 

And now the professor was dead, Dolores looked at the 
check, and supj)osed she could do as she pleased with it. 
Mother helped Uncle Alfred. Yes, but mother earned 
all she sent liim herself! Perhaps he would notask again. 
How much more he had talked to Constance than to her- 
self. Dolly wished she had not seen him to get into thi«t 
difficulty. She was tired, cold and damp. Oh! if she 
had never gone, and not been half caught by Uncle Regiof 


CHAPTER Xir. 

A HUNT. 

Dolores was glad to recollect, when she awoke, that 
Uncle Reginald was in the house. It was as if she had a 
friend of her own there who might enter into all the ill- 
usage she suffered, and whom she could even consult 
about Uncle Alfred, as far as slie could do so without dis- 
closing all the underhand correspondence. She called 
doing so betraying Constance, but, in trutli, she shrunk 
more from shocking him with what he niicjlit think very 
wrong — since, after all, he belonged to that hard-hearted 
generation of grown-up people who had no feeling nor 
understanding of one’s troubles. 

As she went down-stairs she was aware of an increasing 
hubbub, and frequently looking over the balusters, per- 


136 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


ceivecl tlie top of Primrose’s wavy head above tlie close- 
cropped one of Uncle Kegie, as, with her mounted on his 
shoulder, he careered around the hall, with a pack of 
others vociferating behind him. There was a lull, for 
Lady Merri field came out of her room just as Dolores had 
paused; Primrose was put down, the morning salutations 
took place, and Dolores had her full share of them. She 
was even allowed to sit next her uncle at breakfast; but 
her rasher of bacon had not been half eaten, before she 
liad perceived that, as to possessing him as she used to do 
at home, he was just as much everybody else’s Uncle Kegie 
as hers, for during the time of their being stationed at 
Belfast he had been so often with them, that he was quite 
established as the prince of playfellows. 

Uncle Regie, will you have a crack at the rabbits to- 
morrow? Brown said we might have a da}', and we have 
been keeping it fo]‘ you.” 

Uncle Regie, the hounds meet at the Bugle this 
morning, won’t you come and see them throw off?” 

Oh, let me come too!” “ And me!” *^x\nd me!” 

My dear children,” exclaimed their mother, “ I can’t 
have the whole tribe of little ones and girls going gallop- 
ing after your uncle. You will only hinder him.” 

^^No, no, Lily! the more Merrifields, the merrier the 
field. I’ll drill them well. How far off is this Bugle?” 

‘^Not two miles over Furzy Common.” 

“Oh! not so far, Hal!” 

“ That’s nothing. Who. is coming?” 

A general outbreak of “ Me’s ” ensued, but mamma laid 
an embargo on Primrose, who must stay at home and 

help her,” while Gillian looked wistful and doubtful, 
knowing that more efficient help than the little one’s 
might be desirable. 

You had better go, my dear,” said her mother, “ if 
you are not tired. 1 don’t like to send Mysie and Val 
witiiout some one to turn back with them if your uncle 
and the boys want to go further.” 

But whereas it was not nearly time to start. Uncle Regi- 
nald was dragged down to inspect all the live-stock in the 
stable-yard, at their feeding-time, and went off with Val 
and Primrose clinging to his hands, and the general rab- 
ble surrounding him. 

Nothing could have been more alien to Dolores’ taste 


THE TWO SIDES 'OF THE SHIELD. 137 

than going out to a nn^et on foot through mud and mire 
—slie who hated the being driven out to take a constitu- 
tional walk on the gravel road or the paved path! But 
she had some hope that while all the otliers ran off rnad- 
ly, as was their wont, slie might secure a little rational 
conversation with Uncle Reginald. So she came down in 
hat and ulster, and was rewarded with ‘‘ That’s right, 
Doll; I’m glad to see they have taught you to take coun- 
try walks.” 

‘‘It is all compliment to you. Uncle Regie,” said Gil- 
lian, “ She hates them generally.” 

“Are we all ready? Where are Japs and Will?” 

“Gone to shut up the dogs; and Hal is not coming.” 

“ Beneath his dignity, eh?” 

“T think he has some reading to do,” said Gillian. 

“Now mind, Reginald,” said Aunt Lily, coming on 
the scene, “you are not to let those imps drag you fur- 
ther than you like. It is a very different thing, remem- 
ber, children, from going out with the hounds like a 
gentleman.” 

“Yes, mamma,” returned Fergus. “If you would 
only let me have the pony!” 

“And send home the girls as soon as you find them in 
the way,” she added. 

“All right,” answered he, and off plunged the party; 
but Dolores soon found that she was not to be allowed 
much of Uncle Reginald’s exclusive society. He did be- 
gin talking to her about her father’s voyage, last letters, 
and intended departure from Auckland, but Valetta kept 
fast hold of his other hand, and the others were all round, 
every moment pointing out something — to them notice- 
able — and telling the story of some exploit, delighted 
when their uncle capped it with some boyish tales of 
Beechcroft, or with some droll, Irish story. 

With such talk, the strong, healthy young folk little 
heeded the surface mud or the lanes. Even Dolores, when 
she heard her father’s name in the reminiscences, was in- 
terested for a time, and was always hoping that the others 
would fly off and leave her to her uncle; but she was much 
less used to country mud and stout boots than the others, 
and she had been very much tired by her expedition on 
the previous day, so that she had begun to find the way 
very long before they came out on an open green, with 


138 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

a few cottages shuiding a good way back in tlieir gardens, 
and as their center, one of the great old coaching inns'of 
past days, now chiefly farm-house, though a sign, bear- 
ing a golden bugle-horn upon a blue ground, stood aloft 
in front of it, over the heads of the speckled mass of tan, 
black, and white, pervaded with curved tails, over which 
the scarlet-coated whips kept guard, while shining horses, 
bearing red coats and black coats, boys, and a few ladies, 
were moving about, and carriages drew up from time to 
time. 

There was a long standing about, and Colonel Mohun, 
being a stranger there himself, kept his flock on the out- 
skirts, only Jasper ]flunging in, at sight of a mounted 
schoolfellow, while Gillian and Mysie told the names of 
the few they recognized. At last there was a move, and 
Jasper came back to point out the wood they were going 
to draw, close at hand. Should they not all go on and 
see it? 

^^Oh! let us! do come, Uncle Kegie,’’ cried Mysie and 
Val. 

Look here. Gill,” said the uncle, this child doesn’t 
look fit to go any further.” 

I’m very tired, and so cold,” said Dolores. 

Yes,” said Gillian, we ought to go home now.” . 

^^Not me! not me; ” cried the other two girls; Uncle 
Itegie will take care of us.” 

I think you must come,” said Gillian, mamma said 
you had better come home when I do.” 

Yes,” said Wilfred, ‘‘we don’t want a pack of girls 
to go a?vd get tired.” 

“ We shall go into all sorts of places not fit for you,” 
said Jasper; “you wouldn’t come back with a whole petti- 
coat among you.” 

“ And Val would be left stodged in a ditch for a month 
of Sundays,” added Wilfred. 

“I am aLaid we had better ])art company, Gill,” said 
the colonel. “ I would take you on a little*^ further, but 
this poor little Londoner won’t have a leg to stand upon 
by the time she gets home.” 

“ More shame for her to come out to spoil our fun,” 
^nuttered Valetta, too low for her uncle to hear. 

“ ^famma will think we Irave gone quite far enough, 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 13^ 

tliMiik you, uncle,’’ said tlie sage Gillian, and I think 
Fei’gns had hetti'r come too.” 

•* That lie had,” said Jasper. Fancy him over Peak 
Hill.” 

“ He’ll be left behind to be joicked up as we come 
back,” said Wilfred. 

** No, no. no! I can kee]) up better than yon can, Wil. 
U’nke me. Uncle Regie.” The little boy was so near 
howl that good-natured Colonel Mohun’s heart u.i 
touched, and he consented to let him come on, though 
Jasper argueil, You’ll have to carry him, uncle.” 

• No, I’ll make you, master! Tell your mother not 
to wait luncheon for us, Gillian; we’ll pick up something 
somewhere.” 

Hurrah!” cried Wilfred and Fergus, to whom this was 
an immense additional jileasure. 

The girls turned away into the lane, Valetta indulging 
in an outrageous grumble. “ Why should Dolores have- 
come out to spoil everything?” 

Dolores did not speak. 

“Just our one chance,” sighed Mysie, ‘^and perhaps- 
we should have seen the fox.” 

“ We rnay do that yet,” said Gillian; ‘Mie may come 
this way.” 

“ I don’t care if he does,” said Valetta. I wanted ta 
see them draw the copse. I believe Dolores did it on pur- 
pose to spoil our pleasure.” 

“ Don’t he so cross, Val,” said Mysie. She can’t help 
being tired.” 

“ Whv did she come, then, when nobody wanted her?” 

“ For shame, Val,” said *^you know mamm.i 

would be very angry to hear yon say anything so unkiiul.” 

“ It is quite true, though,” muttered Valetta. 

“Never mind. Dolly, dear,” said Mysie, shocked. 

Val doesn’t really mean it, you know.” 

“ Yes, she does,” said Dolores, shaking her comforter 
off; “ vou all do! I wish I had never come here.” 

Mvsie tried in her own persevering way to argue again 
that Val was only put (*ut, and disappointed at having to 
turn back: to wliich Valetta, in spite of Gillian’s endeavor 
to silence her, adde<l. “So stupid of her to come out I 
What did she do it for?” 

Dolores, who haidly ever cried, was tired into crying 


140 


THE TWO SiDES OF THE SHIELD. 

DOW. You grudge me every tiling; you wouldn’t let me. 
speak one single word to Uncle Regie/and kept bothering 
-nbout! I’ll never do anything with you again! I won’t.” 

Did you want to speak to Uncle Regie?” asked Mysie. 
be sure I did! He is my uncle, that I knew ever 
so long before you, and you never let him speak to me,” 

Mrs. Halfpenny always put us on the high chair, with 
our faces to the wall when we were jealous,” remarked 
Valetta. 

‘‘ But did you want to say anything to him in particu- 
lar?” said Mysie, revolving means of contriving a private 
interview. 

That’s no business of yours! I wish you would let 
me alone!” broke oift Dolores, in a fretful fright lest any- 
one should guess that she had anything on her mind. 

“To make up stories of us, of course,” growled Valetta, 
but Gillian here interposed, declaring with authoidty that 
if she heard another word before they reached the pad- 
dock gate, she should certainly tell mother how disgrace- 
fully they had been behaving. When Gillian said such 
things she kept her word. Besides by way of precaution, 
she marched down the muddy middle of the road, with 
Dolores limping along the footpath on one side, and Val 
as far off as possible on the border of the ditch, on the 
other; the more inoffensive Mysie keeping by her side. 
^I'hey were all weary, and Dolores was very footsore also, 
by the time they reached iiome, at the very moment that 
the two Misses Hacket appeared coming up the drive. 
Lady Merrifleld, having the day before invited the elder, 
as the purchases needed to be looked over, and prepara- 
tions set in hand, and she did not then know that her 
brother was coming. 

Dolores scarcely knew whether she was glad to see 
Constance. She had many doubts and qualms about that 
check. And if she had spent any quiet time alone with 
her uncle, she might have laid enough of her trouble before 
him to get some advice or help; but to ask for an inter- 
view, especially when “everybody” thought it was to 
make complaints, was too uncomfortable and alarming; 
and she was inclined to escape from thought of the whole 
subject altogether by taking action quickly. 

Gillian gave her uncle’s message about not waiting; 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. l4l 

Ihc ilirt}' bouts were taken off in the liall, and Constance 
followed her friend np to her room to take off her things. 

Dolores sat on the side of her bed, too much tired at 
first to be willing to move, Constance’s pity elicited tears, 
and that they had all been so very unkind to her; they 
were angry at her getting tired, and they were jealous of 
her even speaking to Uncle liegie. Again this alarmed 
Constance, “ You weren’t going to tell him about Mr. 
Flinders— you know you promised.” 

'‘He knows about him already, and he would tell me 
what to do.” 

"Oh! but that would never do, darling Do113l You 
told me all the family were hard and unjust, and he 
would tell Lady Merri field, and we should never be 
allowed to see each other again. And only think of my 
poor little secret! I didn’t think you would have turned 
from your poor relation in misfortune for the sake of this 
-grand colonel.” 

The end of it was, that, just as the gong was sounding, 
Dolores handed over to Constance an envelope directed 
to Mr. Flinders, and containing Mr. Maurice Mohun’s 
‘‘check. It was off her mind now, she tliought, as she 
■sliuffled down to dinner, looking so pale and uneasy tliat 
lier aunt made her have a glass of wine and some gravy 
soup to begin witli, and, when dinner was over, turned all 
the parcels off the scliool-room sofa, and made her lie 
•^iipon it during the grand un})acking, which was almost 
as charming as tlie purchasing, perhaps more so, since 
tliere was no comparison' with costlier articles. 

There was not very much time. This was Friday, and 
Cliristmas-day was on Monday, so there were only two 
more clear week-days before the birthday, and Miss 
Hacket would be church-decorating on the morrow; but 
Lady Merrifield would not send her daughters to help, as 
there was plenty of hands witliout them, and they were 
too young to trust in a mixed set, who were not alwa3^s 
sure to bo reverent. 

Dinner had rested and refreshed them; they rejoiced in 
the absence of the man-kind, and Primrose was sent out 
ior her walk while tlie numerous boxes and packages were 
opened, and displayed sconces and tapers, gilt balls and 
glass birds, oranges and bonbons, disguised in every im- 
aginable fashion. There was a double set of the tapers. 


143 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


and two relays of devices in sweets, for the benefit of the 
party of the second night, a list of whom Miss Hacket 
had “brought, that heads miglit be counted, and any de- 
ficiency supplied in time through Aunt Jane. For Lady 
Merrifield had commissioned Gillian to lay in — unknown 
to the good lady — a stock of such treasures as are valuable 
indeed to the little maid: shell pin-cushions, Cinderella 
slippers holding thimbles, cases of liair-pins, queer house- 
wives, and tiie like things, wonderfully pretty for the 
price, and which filled the kind heart of Miss Hacket 
with rapture and gratitude at such brilliant additions to 
her own home-made contrivances in the way of cuffs, 
comforters, and illuminated workbags, all beautifully 
neat; though it was hard to persuade her of what Lady 
Merrifield averred, that such things ought to be far more 
precious than brilliant, shop-bought, ready-made ware, 
‘‘with no love-seed in it.” . 

“ It is very hard,” she said, “ how fancy shops try to 
spoil all one used to be able to do for one’s friends. The 
purses, and the pen-wipers, and the needle-cases that were 
one’s choicest presents in my youth, are all turned out 
now smart and tight and new-fashioned, but without a 
scrap of the honest old labor and love that went into 
them.” 

“ But papa and mamma do care still,” cried Gillian* 
“ papa never will have any purse but the long ones mamma 
nets for him.” 

“ And mamma always will have the old brown-and-blue 
cari’iage-bag that Aunt Phyllis worked,” chimed in Mysie, 
“ though Claude did say he would throw it into the sea 
when we crossed from Dublin, for it looked like an old 
housekeeper’s.” 

“ Claude was in a superfine condition then — in awe of 
an old Sandhurst comrade. He would be glad enough to 
see the old brown bag now, poor fellow,” said Lady Mer- 
rifield, tenderly. 

So it went on, with merry chat and a good deal of real 
preparation, till the early dsirkness came on, and a great 
noise in the hall announced the return of “ the boys,’^ 
among whom Lady Merrifield still classed her colonel 
brother. They were muddy up to the eyes, but they had 
seen a great deal more than was easy to understand in their 
incoherent accounts. Wilfred had rolled into a wet ditck> 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


]43 


5.n(l been ])icked out by bis uncle and hung u}) to dry at a 
little village inn, where — this seemed to have been the 
supreme glory — they had made a meal on pigs’ liver and 
bread-and-clieese before plodding home again — losing tlieir 
way under Wilfred’s confident })ilotage — finding them- 
selves five miles from home — getting a cast in a cart for 
the two little boys just as Fergus was almost ready to cry 
— Colonel Alohun and Jasper walking alongside of tlie 
carter for two miles, and conversing in afriemlly manner, 
though the man said he knew the soldier by his step, and 
thought it was a poor trade. Finally, ho direeted them 
by a short cut, which proved to be through a lane of clay 
and pools of such an adhesive nature that Fergus had to 
be })ulled out step by step by main force by his unele, who 
deposited him on some stones at the other end, and then 
came back to assist the struggles of Wilfred, who was 
slowly proceeding with Jasper’s help. 

And that’s tiie way we make you spend your OhrisU 
mas holiday. Regie,” said Lady Merrifield. 

“ Never mind, Lily; mud was a congenial element to us 
both in old times, you know, so no wonder your brood 
take to it like ducks or hippopotamuses. I say, we ought 
to have come in by the rear. Couldn’t that imp of a but- 
tons of yours come and scrape us before we go upstairs.^” 
You are certainly grown older. Regie. You never 
would have thought of that once.” 

No more would you, Lily — so do yourself justice.” 

However, when five o’clock tea was spread in the draw- 
ing-room, and the Hacket ladies came in, Constance be- 
held such a splendid vision of a fine, fair, though sun- 
burnt face, long, light mustaches, and tall figure, that 
she instantly assumed her most affected graces, and did not 
wonder the less that the Mohuns were all so' very high. 

Dolores’ strong desire for a private interview with 
lier uncle died away when Constance carried off the check. 
She knew he would tell her she had no right to give it, 
and she did not want to be told so, nor to have any special 
inquiries made. She was not sorry that an invitation 
from a neighbor kept him and Hal out shooting all Sat- 
urday, and, and on the other hand, she so far shrunk from 
Cons*^tunce’s talk about Mr. Flinders as not to be vexed 
that it was too wet on Sunday afternoon for any going 
down to Casement Cottages. 


144 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


It was on that wet afternoon, however, that Uncle Regi- 
nald, crossing the hall for once without his tail of fol- 
lowers, saw her slowly dragging down-stairs with a book 
in her hand. 

“ Well, Miss Doll,’^ he said; ‘‘ you don’t look very jolly! 
"What’s the matter?” 

‘‘Nothing, Uncle Regie.” 

“I don’t believe in nothing. Here,” sitting down on 
the stairs, with an arm round her, “ tell me all about it, 
Dolly, we are old chums, you know. Have you got into 
a row?” 

“Oh, no!” 

“ Is there anything I can put straight?” 

“No, thank you. Uncle Itegie.” 

“There’s something amiss!” said the good-natured, 
puzzled uncle. “ What is it? 1 should have thought 
you would have got on with these young folks like — like 
a house on fire.” 

“ That’s all you know about it,” thought Dolly. 

What she said was, “ One never does.” 

“ I don’t understand that generalization,” answered her 
uncle; then, as she did not answer, he added. “ I am sure 
your Aunt Lily is very anxious to make you happy. Have 
you anything to complain of?” 

“ No,” said Dolores, “ I don’t com})lain of anything.” 

She was thinking of Valetta’s notion that she wanted 
to “ make up stories of them,” and tlierefore she said it 
in a manner which conveyed that she had a good deal to 
complain of, if she would, though really she would have 
been a good deal puzzled to produce a grievance that a 
man like Uncle Reginald would understand, though she 
had plenty for sympathy like Constance’s. 

However, it* was not to be expected that a private con- 
ference should last long in that house, and Mysio ap- 
peared at that moment, looking for her cousin, to say that 
“ mamma was ready for her.” Dolores went off with 
more alacrity than usual, and Uncle Reginald beckoned 
up his other niece, and observed: “I say, Mysie, what’? 
the matter with Dolly?” 

“She is always like that, uncle,” answered Mysie. 

“Don’t you hit it off witli her, then?” 

“I can’t, uncle,” said Mysie, looking up, with a sudde:: 
wink nowand then to stop her tears. “1 thought wc 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


145 . 


should have been such friends; but she won’t let me. I 
didn’t mean to be stupid and disagreeable, like the girls 
in ‘ Ashenden School-room^’ but she doesn’t care for any- 
body but Miss Constance and Maude Sefton.” 

“ I hope you are all very kind to her,” said Uncle Re- 
ginald, rather wistfully. 

‘•We try,” said Mysie, who was not going to betray 
Wilfred and Valetta, and could honestly say so of herself 
and Gillian. 

And there again came an interruption, in the shape of 
Gillian. “ Mysie, mamma says we may finish up our 
sacred illuminated cards, for it will be Sunday work.” 

“ Oh, jolly!” cried Mysie, jumping up. “ And will you 
give me one rub of your real good carmine gilly-flower, 
dear.” 

“And of my ultramarine, too,” responded Gillian, 
wherewith Uie two sisters disappeared, radiant with good- 
will and gratitude; while poor Uj^icle Reginald, who had 
intended to devote this wet Sunday afternoon to writing 
to his brother that Dolores was perfectly happy and thriv- 
ing in Lily’s care, and like a sister to his other favorite, 
Mysie, remained disappointed and perplexed, wondering 
whether the poor little maiden were homesick, or whether 
no children could be depended on for kindness when out 
of sight, and deciding that he should defer his letter till 
he had seen a little more, and talked to his sister Jane, 
who could see through a milestone any day. 

It was understood that mamma preferred home-made 
cards to bought ones, so there was always a great manu- 
facture of them in the weeks previous to Christmas, the 
comparative failures being exchanged among the younger 
members. 

The presents were always reserved for Valetta’s birth- 
day and the tree, and this rendered the circulation of the 
cards doubly interesting. In the immediate family alone 
there were thirteen times thirteen, besides those coming 
from and going to outsiders, so that it was as well that a 
good many should be of domestic manufacture, either 
with pencil and brush, or of tiny leaves carefully dried and 
gummed. And mamma had kept an album, with names 
and dates, into Avhich all these home efforts were inserted, 
and nothing else! T’his year’s series began with a little 
chestnut curl of Primrose’s hair, fastened down on a card 


146 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


by Gillian, and rose to a beautiful drawing of a blue In- 
ilinn lotus lily, with a gorgeous dragon-fly on it, sent by 
Alethea. The Indian party had scut a card for every 
one— the girls, beautiful drawings of birds, insects, and 
scenery; tiie brotlier, a bundle of rice-paper figured with 
costumes, and papa some clever pen-and-ink outlines of 
odd figures, which his daughters beguiled from him in liis 
leisure moments! 

As to the home circle, it is enough to say that their 
performances were highly satisfactory to the makers, and 
were rewarded by mamma’s kisses and the text or verse 
she had secretly illuminated for each. She luid no time 
to do more, and the series were infinitely })rized and laid 
np as treasures. There were plenty of ornamental cards 
from without to be admired — the Brighton and Beechcroffc 
aunts, the Stokesley cousins, and whole multitudes of 
friends pouring them in as usual, so that the entire review 
seemed to occupy all those free moments of tlie Christmas 
day when the young folks were neither at church, nor at 
meals, nor singing carols tliemselves, nor hearing the 
choir sing in the hall, nor looking over ])hotograph books 
and hearing old family stories. This last occupation was 
received in the family as the regular evening pleasure, 
ending in all singing, “ When shepherds watch their flocks 
by night.” 

Dolores had a card from her aunt and each of her 
cousins, besides one of the parcels Uncle Eeginald had 
brought. She did not think enough of the very bad 
drawing and smeared painting of the ambitious attempts 
she received to feel at all disconcerted at having no 
reciprocity to offer. The only cards she had sent were to 
Constance Hacket, to Fraulein, and to Maude Sefton — 
the last with a sore sense of the long interval since she 
11 ad heard. 

However, there was a card from Maude, but it was a 
very poor one, looking very much like a last year’s posses- 
sion, and the letter was not much better, being chiefly an 
apology for having been too busy to write. Maude was 
going to lectures with Nona Styles— Is’ona was such a 
darling girl— and breaking off because she was wanted to 
rehearse Cinderella with this same darling Nona. 

It made Dolores’ heart go down further, though there 
was a beautiful and unexjiected card from Mrs. Sefton, 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


147 


one from her former servant, Caroline, also from Fraiilein. 
and three or four from old friends of her mother, whO' 
had rejiiembered tlie solitary girl. In truth, she had more- 
beautiful ones than anybody else, but she kept these in 
their envelopes, and showed herself so much averse to free 
fingering and admiration of them that Lady Merrifield 
had to call off Valetta, remind her that her cousin Inid a 
rignt to her own cards, and hear, in return, that Dolores 
was so cross. 

Dolly,’’ said Uncle Reginald, in a low voice, since he 
was permitted to look over the cards with her, “ 1 tiiink I 
have found out part of your troubles.” 

She looked at him in alarnj. 

lie put his finger on a card bearing the words, Good- 
will to men.” 

Umph,” said she. ‘‘ I don’t want everything of mine 
messed and spoih^d.” 

And as his eye fell on Fergus’s cards, he felt there was 
reason in what she said. 

Aunt Lily had taken her for a quarter of an hour that 
morning, trying to infuse the real thought underlying 
the joy that makes it Christmas, not only Yule-tide. But 
it all fell flat — it was all lessons to her — imposed on her 
on a day that she had not been useil to see made what she 
called “goody.” Last year her father had shut himself 
up after church, and she had spent the evening in noisy 
mirth with the Seftons. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

AN EGYPTIAN SPHYNX. 

Aunt Adeline was afraid of winter journeys, as well 
as of the tumultuous festivities of Silverton; so at twelve 
o’clock Colonel Mohun drove the pony-carriage to meet 
the little trim Brownie whostej>ped out of the station, the 
porter carrying behind her a huge thing, long, and swathed 
in brown paper. “ It is quite light; it won’t hurt,” she 
said, “It nnist go with us. Put your legs across it. 
Regie. That’s right.” 

“ fldien what becomes of yours?” 

“ Mine ci\n go anywhere,” said Miss Mohun, crumpling 
herself up in some mysterious manner under the fur rug. 


148 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

while they drove off, her luggage sticking far off on either 
side of the splashboard. ^ 

''Vvhatin the name of wonder are you smuggling in 
there?” 

“If you must know, it is the body of a mummy over 
whose dissection you will have to assist.” 

“Ah! Eotherwood is coming.” 

“ Eotherwood!” 

“ And his litle girl. Just like him. Lily gets a note 
tliis morning from London, telling her to telegraph if 
«he can’t have them by the 5:20 train. I’ve just been 
ordering a fly. . It seems that Lady Eotherwood, going to 
meet Ivinghoe at the station, coming from school, found 
he had measles coming out! So they packed off his sis- 
ter to Beechcroft without having seen him, and thence 
Eotherford took her to London.” 

“And is having a fine frolic with her, no doubt; but 
he might as well have given Lily more notice, considering 
that a marquis or two makes more difference to her 
household than it does to his.” 

“Oh! she is glad enough, only in some trepidation as to 
how Mrs. Halfpenny may receive the unspecified maid 
that tlie child may bring,” 

“ How jolly we shall be! I wish Ada had come.” 

“I tried to drag her out, but it gets harder and harder 
to shake her up. You must come back with me and see 
her.” 

“I say, Jane, liave you seen Maurice’s child lately?” 

“Not very. She wouldn’t come with the others last 
week.” 

“ AVhat do you think about her? I thought leaving her 
with Lily would have been the making of her. Indeed, I 
told Maurice there could not be a better brought-up set 
anywhere than the Merrifields, and that Lily would 
mother her like one of her own; and now I find her mop- 
ing about, looking regularly down in the mouth. I got 
hold of her one day and tried to find out what was the 
matter, but she only said she would not complain. Can 
they bully her?” 

“ I’ll tell you what, Maurice, Lily is a great deal too 
kind to her. She has a kind of temper that won’t let 
them make friends with her.” 

“ Come, now! She was a nice, jolly little girl at home. 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


149 


She and I liave had no* end of larks together, and it is 
hard to blame her for fretting after her home, ])oor child! 
Ay! I know you never liked her, or she might have 
done better with you and Ada than turned in among a lot 
of iinps.^’ 

Fm thankful it was otherwise.’’ 

‘^'Now, do, Jane, set your mind to it. Don’t be 
prejudiced, but make those sharp eyes of some use. I 
really feel bound to give Maurice an account of Dolly, and 
tell him what is best for her.” 

I believe,” said Jane, that there is some counter-in- 
Huence at work, and I am trying to find it out; but, after 
all, I believe patience is the only thing, and that Lily will 
oonquer her if nobody meddles.” 

’Tis not Lily I’m afraid of, but her children.” 

‘‘Nonsense, Kegie; one would think you had never 
been turned loose into school to be licked into shape.” 

“ She is a girl, not a cub like me.” 

“A worse cub, for she has not your temper, sir; and, 
moreover, you had had the wholesome discipline of a large 
family. Besides, nobody teases but Wilfred. Gillian and 
Mysie behave like angels to the tiresome puss.” 

“Well, I’m bound to believe yon, Jenny, but I don’t 
like the looks of it.” 

Aunt Jane’s mysterious parcel was greeted rapturously, 
and conveyed into the dining-room, which had a semi- 
circular end, filled with glass, and capable of being shut 
off with heavy curtains when the season made snugness 
desirable. This bay had been set apart from the first for 
her operations, the tree, whose second season it was, hav- 
ing been taken up and already erected in the center of the 
room, not much the worse for last year’s excursion, for, if 
rather stunted, that was all the better. No one was ex- 
cluded from the decoration thereof, since that was the 
best part of the sport to those too old for the mystery — 
and yet young enough to fasten sconces where their can- 
dles would inhillibly set fire to the twigs above them. The 
only defaulters were Jasper, who had preferred going down 
to the meadows with his gun, and Dolores, who had re- 
tired to the drawing-room with a book, on having a paper 
star removed from immediate risk of conflagration. 

“ Tlicy were determined not to let her help,” she said. 
So she only emerged when the workers halted for a 


150 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


iiUM'ry, liurriecl meal in the school-room, where Jasj^er 
a})i)eared, very late, very cross at having had to make 
himself fit to be seen, and, likewise, at having brought 
home no spoil, the sni})es having bemi so maiicnous as to- 
escape him. Having sallied forth before the post came 
in,. It was only now that it broke on him that visitois were 
expected, and he did not like it at all. 

“1 thought we had got rid of all the enemy!’’ 
growled, at liis end of the table. 

“That’s what he calls Constance,” thought Dolores. 

“Polite,” observed Gillian. 

“'I’his will be worse still, being lords and ladies,” 
grumbled on Jasper, “I hate swells.” 

“ Oil! but these aren’t like horrid, common, fine lords 
and ladies,” cried Mysie; “ why, you know all mamma’s 
old stories about the fun they had with Cousin Kother- 
ford.” 

“ What’s the good of that! That’s a hundred years 
ago. He’ll just make mamma and Uncle Regie of no good 
at all! And then there’s a girl too — ” (in a tone of in- 
conceivable disgust) “I don’t want strange girls — an aw- 
ful stuck-up swell of a Londoner, not able to do any- 
thing! I wish I had gonetospend Christmas witli Brucef 
I would if 1 had known it was to be like this.” 

The speech bronglit Mysie to the verge of tears. Aunt 
Jane’s sharp ears heard it, and she looked at the head of 
the table, expecting to hear a rebuke; but Lady Merri- 
field turned a deaf ear on that side. Only after the meal, 
slie called her son, “Jasper,” she said, I want to send 
a note to Redford, if you like to ride over with it. Y<> 
nee i not come liome till eight o’clock, if it is nioonlign 
if the boys are disengaged, and if you do really wish t 
keep out of the way.” 

Jasper’s eyes fell under hers. 

“ Mamma, I don’t want that.” 

“Only you said more than you meant, Japs. If it re- 
lieves your mind, it hurts other people. But I do want 
the note taken, so go and come back in time for the 
sports; whioii I don’t think you will damaged.” 

Meantime, Aunt Jane had ensconced herself beldnd 
the curtains; where she admitted no one but Miss Vin- 
cent and Uncle Reginald, and in process of time, mamma 
and Macrae. The others waoe still fully employed in 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


151 


garnishing the tree, though it was only to bear liglits, 
ornanients and sweets. All solid articles had been for 
some tune past committed to a huge box, or ottoman, the 
veteran companion of the family travels, which stood in 
the centei of the bay. Into its capacious interior every- 
body had been dropping parcels of various sizes and 
shapes, with addresses in all sorts of hands, which were 
to find their destination on this great evening. Tiiis was 
part of the mystery that kept Mysie and Valetta in one 
continual dance and capei*. It was all they could do not 
to peep between the curtains when the ])rivileged mortals 
■went in and out, bearing all sorts of mysterious loads well 
covered up from all eyes. Wilfred did make one attempt, 
hut something extraordinary snapped at }\is nose, with a 
sharp crack, and drove him back with a start. 

A lamp had been taken thither, and there really was 
notliing more to do to the tree, the scraps of packing had 
been j)icked Uj), and the hands, tingling from fir-needle 
pricks, had been washed, though not without protest 
from Valetta that it wasn’t worth wjiile, and from Wil- 
fred that it was all along of these horrid swells — ! 

The sound of wheels summoned Lady ]\Ierrifield and 
her brother from the place of mystery, and they were in 
the hall when a fresh gust of keen air came in from the 
door, an ulstered figure hurried in, and sornetliing small 
and furred was put into the lady’s embrace. 

Here’s* my Fly, Lily — ! Look, Fly, here they all are 
— all the cousins. Off with the hat. Let us see your 
funny little face.” 

It was a funny little smiling face, set in short, light, 
wavy hair, not exactly pretty, but with a bright, quaint, 
confiding look, as if used to be shown off by her father, 
and ready to make friends on the spot. And how is 
your boy?” as the round of greetings was completed, and 
the wraps thrown off. 

Going on capitall}', better than he deserves, the young 
scamp, for suppressing all sym})tomsfor fear he should be 
hindered from coming home. His mother was in a proper 
fright, she showed him to the doctor on the way, who told 
Jier to put him to bed at once, and sen.d his sister out of 
file house. She never set eyes on him, or I would not have 
brought her here.” 


15;i THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

‘‘I am exceedingly glad you have,’’ said Lady Merri-^ 
field, bending for another kiss. 

“ And, Lilv, I’ve done another awful thing. Victoria 
kept old nurse to help with Ivinghoe, and we brought the 
Swiss lonne, Louise, away with us, but the poor thing 
found iier sister very ill in London, and I hadn’t the heart 
to bring her away, so Phyllis said she would do for herself, 
if your maid, or some of tliern, would have an eye to her.” 

“There! I’m doubly glad, Rotherwood! If I had any 
fears it was not of you, or Phyllis; but that, like Vicii 
Ian Vhor, she would have her tail on. And, oh! Rother- 
wood, do yon know what you are in for?” 

“ High jinks of some sort, I’ve no doubt. We picked 
up a couple of boxes at Gunter’s and Miller’s with a view 
thereto. Who is master of the revels?” 

“ Jane. Siie’s too deep in preparation to come forth 
at present. Gillian, will you take Phyllis to the nursery^ 
and take care of her? We are to have a very high tea at 
half past six; but, Rotherwood, I promise that another 
day you shall have a respectable dinner in this house.” 

“ Return to the prose of life, eh, Lily? Well, Fly, 
what do you think of it?” 

“ Oil, daddy, aren’t you glad we came?” she cried, 
dancing off, in Gillian’s wake, arm in arm with Mysieand 
Yalettu, while he called after her, “Find the boxes, and 
make them over to the right quarter.” 

This was enough to make tiie whole bevy of children 
rush away, and only the three elders remairfed. Lord 
Rotherwood said, “This is short notice, Lily; but I did 
not know Reginald was here, and I thought you might 
want help. Don’t be frightened, only a queer thing has 
happened. I went to W.’s bank yesterday. I thought 
they looked at me as if something was up, and by and by 
one of the partners came and took me into his private 
room. There he showed me a check, and asked iny 
opinion whether the writing was Maurice’s. And I should 
say it decidedly was, but it was actually for seventy pounds, 
payable to order of Miss Dolores M. Mohun.” 

“ Seventy!” 

“ Yes, and dated the 19th of August.” 

“Just before Maurice went.” 

There was a sudden silence, for the door opened; but 
it was to admit Miss Mohun, who began, “ Oh, Rother* 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


153 


"wood, you are too munificent. Why, what’s the matter?” 
Lady Merrifield hastily explained, as far as she yet under- 
stood, what had brought him. 

How did they get the check?” she asked. 

Sent up from the country bank where it had been 
cashed — Darminster,” 

All!” came from both the aunts. 

Lord Rotherwood went on. “They asked me who 
Miss Dolores Mohun was, and I could do no otherwise 
than toll tlieni, and likewise where to find her, but I ex- 
plained that she is a mere child; and 1 told tliem I would 
come down here, so I hope you will have as little annoy- 
ance us possible.” 

“ It is very good of you, Rotherwood, but I can’t un- 
derstand it at all. Was her name on the back?” 

“Certainly; I told thorn I tliougiit the whole thing 
must be a well got-up forgoi-y, and a confidential clerk 
was to go down to-day to Darminster to try to find out 
who gave it in there.” 

“ l)arrni lister! Flindei’s!” ejaculated Miss Mohun. 

“Regie,” exclaimed Lady Merrifield, “what did you 
say about having seen some one like Dolores at Darminster 
station ?” 

“ I was nearly jumping out after her. I should have 
said it was herself, if it had not been impossible. Why 
she was with yon at Rockstone, and it was a pouring, 
dripping day,” said tiie colonel. 

“ No^ she was not. She begged to spend the day with 
Constance Ilacket, and we picked her up as we came 
home. Poor child, what has shebeen doing? I have not 
looked after her projiei’ly.” 

“But need she have had anything to do with it?” said 
Colonel Mohun. “How should a check of Maurice’s 
come into her possession?” 

“She did tell me,” said Lady Merrifield,” that her fa- 
ther had left one with her to jiay for some German scientific 
book that might be sent for him.” 

“ 1 see, then!” cried Miss Mohun. “ That wretch Flin- 
ders must have got into communication with her, and in- 
duced her to fill up her father’s check for him.” 

“ But why should it be Flinders?” said Lord Rcther- 
wood. 

“JaiKi found out that he is living at Darminster, and 


154 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

lias been trying to put me on my guard,’’ returned Lady 
Merrifieid. 

“ It is all that fellow Flinders, depend upon it,” said 
Colonel Mohun. ‘‘Pie is quite capable of it, and you’ll 
find poor Dolly lias nothing to do with it. Quite jire- 
posterous. And look here, Lily, let the poor child alone 
to enjoy herself to-night. Most likely Rotherwood’s 
clerk, or detective, or whatever he may be, will have fer- 
reted out the rights of the matter at Darminster. 1 sin- 
cerely hope he will, and have Flinders in custody, and 
then you would have upset her and accused her all for 
nothing.” 

“ I am glad you think so. Regie,” said Lady Merrir 
field. “I am thankful enough to wait, and hope it will 
be explained without spoiling the children’s evening.” 

“All right,” said the visitor; “ I only hope 1 have not 
spoiled yours.” 

“Oh! one learns to throw things off. I shall believe 
it is all Flinders, and none of it the child’s,” said Lady 
Merrifieid, carefully avoiding a glance that could show 
her any gesture of dissent on the part of her sister, and 
only looking up for her brothe;'’s nod of appioval. “ Be- 
sides, how foolish it would be to worry myself when I 
have two such protectors! It was very good in you, Roth- 
erwood. I only hope we shall take good care of your Fly, 
and that her mother will be satisfied about her.” 

“ She knew the little woman and I siiould have a lark 
together,” said he. “ The governess was safe out of reach, 
holiday-making, so I could have her all to myself. Vic- 
toria suggested her brother’s, and we must go there be- 
fore we liave done, but business and the pantomime by 
good luck took us to London first. So when I wrote to 
you from the bank, I also let her know that I was obliged 
to take the little woman down here first. I coiildnH tako 
her to High Court till Louise is available again,” 

“So much the better, I’m sure.” 

“And what I was going to say is, that Rotherwood has 
been startlingly munificent and splendid,” said Aunt Jane. 
“We shall have a set of new surprises.” 

“ I don’t in the least know what I brought. I only told 
each of them to put up such a box a§ they sent out 
for Christmas concerns. Do precisely what you please 
with them.” 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


155 


Come and see, Ldy, for I think there will bo enough 
to reserve a fresh lot of things for Miss Ilacket’s affair. 
By the bye, llegie, did you say it rained at Darrninster?’’ 

“ Poured all the way down.” 

“ W ell, wo hatl it quite fine.” 

“ Whis it fine here?” 

“ Yes, certainly,” said Lady Merrifield, ‘^or Primrose 
would not have gone out. Take care of Kotherwood, 
Kegie. You know his room. ” 

And the two sisters crossed the hall, where the very 
high tea” was being laid; hearing from the regions above 
souiiiis of exquisite glee and rnei'riment, as perfect and 
almost as inexpressive of anytlnhig else as the singing of 
birds, so that they themselves could not help answering 
with a laugh, before they vanished into the chamber of 
Tuvstery. 

Indeed, Phyllis’s conversation was like a fairy-tale. Her 
brother’s illness, which was not enough to damp anyone’s 
spirits, had prevented or hindered a gnind children’s 
party as the Butterfly’s Ball, ./here she was to iiave been 
the Butterfly, and Lord Ivinghoe the Grasshopper, and 
^11 the children were to ajipear as one of the characters 
in Roscoe’s pretty poem. Never was anything more de- 
lightful to the imagination of the little cousins, and they 
could not marvel enough at her seeming so little uneasy 
about anything so charming, and quite ready and eager to 
throw herself headlong into all their present enjoyments, 
making wonderful surmises as to the mystery in prepa- 
ration. 

Dolores heard the laughing, and it did not suit with her 
vaguely uneasy and injured frame of mind; feeling dread- 
fully lonely too, as she came down-stairs, dressed for the 
evening, but not knowing where to go, for the dining- 
room was engrossed, the school-room was dark, and the 
fire out, the drawing-room occupied by the two gentlemen. 
Sim crouched down in one of the big arm-chairs on either 
side of the hearth in the hall, and began to read by the 
firelight. Presently Jasper came in from his ride, and 
began taking off his great-coat, leggjings, and boots, 
whistling as he did so; then, perceiving the tempting 
object of a black leg sticking out of the chair, he stole up 
across the soft carpet, and caught hold of the ankle. He 
received a vigorous kick in return (which perhaps he 


156 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


expected), but what he did not expect was the black figure 
that rose up in outraged dignity and .indignation. “ For 
shame! I won’t be insulted!” 

“ Whew! I thought ’twas Val! I beg your pardon,” 

I shall ask my aunt if I am to be insulted.” 

‘MVell, if you clioose to take it in that way- — a man 
can’t do more than beg pardon! I’m sure I would never 
have presumed to touch you if I had known it was your 
Dolorousness.” 

And he turned to walk away, just as the babbling ripple 
of laughter began to flow down-stairs, and a whole mass 
of little girls, intertwined together, was descending. “.I 
always hop,” said a voice new to him, ^‘except on the 
great staircase, and mother doesn’t like it there. But this 
is such a jolly stair. Can’t you hop?” 

Hopping in a thi-eefold embrace on a slippery stair was 
hardly a safe pastime, and before Jasper had time to 
utter more than “Holloa there! take care!” there de- 
scended suddenly on him an avalanche of little girls, 
knocking him off his feet, so that all pj-omiscuousiy 
rolled down two or thi-ee steps together. Fergus and 
Primrose who had somehow been holding on behind, re- 
mained upright, but nevertheless screaming. The shrieks 
of the fallen were, however, laughter. There was a soft 
rug below, and by the time the gentlemen had rushed out 
of the dining-room, and the ladies from the curtained 
recess, giggling below and legs above were chiefly ap- 
parent. 

“Any one hurt?” was of course Lady Merrifiold’s cry. 

“ Oh, no, mamma. Only we are so mixed up we can’t 
get up,” called out Mysie. 

“ Is this arm you or me?” exclaimed Phyllis, following 
up the joke. 

“Come, sort yourselves, ladies and gentlemen,” said 
Lord Kotherwood. “ What’s this, a Fly’s wing?” 

“ No, it’s mine,” cried Val, as his hand ])ulled her out, 
and the others extricated themselves, still laughing, so 
that they could hardly stand, and Fly delaring, “ Oh, 
daddy, daddy, it is such fun! I am so glad we" came,” 
and taking a gratuitous leap into the air. 

“Every one to her taste,” said Lady Merrifield. “ I 
congratulate those to whom a compound tumble-down- 
stairs is felicity.” 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 


i5r 

She has found her congenial element, you see,’’ said 
her fatlier, as the elders proceeded upstairs to their 
toilet. ’Tis laughing-gas with her to be with other 
children, and the most laugMngest of all are naturally 
yours, old Lily.’’ 

Meanwhile Jasper, risen on his stocking soles, looked 
all over at the little figure, dressed old-picture fashion, in 
the simplest white frock with blue sash, and sl}ort-cut 
hair tied back with blue. “ Well, you are a jolly littie 
girl,” be said, “and a cool customer, too! Wliat do you 
mean by knocking a fellow over the first time you seo 
him?*’’ 

“/ind what do you mean by coming like a great — huge 
— b"g elephant in our way to stop up the stairs?” de- 
manded Fly, in return. 

^'Do you mean to insinivate that’twas I that made you 
fa^?” said Jasper — “I, that was quietly walking up the- 
stuirs, when down there came on me a shower— not cats 
and dogs, but worserer, far worserer! Why, I’m kilt! my 
nose is flat as a pancake, I sha’n’t recover my beauty all 
'^he evening for the great swells that are coming.” 

“Jasper, Japs,” called his mother’s warning voice, 
“you must come up and dress, for tea is going in.” 

He obeyed, rushing two steps at a time; but meeting,, 
at the bottom of the attic flight, his sister Gillian, he 
demanded, “Gill, what awfully jolly little girl have 
they got down there?” 

“Why, Fly, of course. Lady Phyllis Devereux — ” 

No, no, nothing swell, a comical little soul, with 
no nonsense about her, in a white thing.” 

“ Well, that’s Phyllis, there’s no one else there.” 

“Isay, Gill, ’tis like sunshine and clouds. She and 
the other, I mean. Why, I gave a little pull to a foot 
I saw ill the arm-chair, thinking it belonged to Val, 
and out breaks my Lady of the Rueful Countenance, 
vowing she’ll complain that I’ve insulted her; and as to 
the other, the whole lot of them tumbled over me to- 
gether on the stairs, and she did nothing but laugh 
and chaff.” 

“I hope she is not a romp,” said the staid Gillian, 
sagely, as she went down-stairs. 

JRit on that score she was soon satisfied. Phyllis 
Devereux was a thorough little lady, wild and merry as 


158 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


she was, and enclianted to be in the rare Fairyland of 
child companionship. And tliat, indeed, she liad. Mysie 
and Valet ta, between whose ages she stood, hung to her 
inseparably, and Jasper was quite transformed from iiis 
grim superciliousness into her devoted knigjit. At tea- 
time there was a competition for the seats next to her, de- 
termined by Valetta’s taking one side, in right of the 
birthday, and Jasper the other because he secured it, 
and Mysie gave way to him because he was Japs, and 
she always did. While Dolores laid up a store of mor- 
alizings on the adulations paid to the little lady of title, 
and at the same time s})eculated what concatenation of 
circumstances could ever make her Lady Dolores Mohun. 
On the whole, it would be more likely that her fatlier 
sliould gain a peerage by putting down a Fijian rebellion 
than that it should be discovered that his mother, Lady 
Emily, had been the true heiress of the rnarquisate, and 
even so, an uncomfortable number of peojile must be dis- 
posed of before it could come to him. She had one con- 
solation, however: Uncle Reginald, always kind to lier, 
was particularly affectionate this evening, as if he would 
not have that foolish little Fly set up before her. 

The tea and the tree both went off joyously. There is 
no need to describe the sjiectacle to folks who can count 
their Christmas-trees by the years of their life, and the 
memorable part of this one was that much of the fruit 
that had been left hanging on it was now metamorpliosed 
into something much more gorgeous — oranges had become 
eggs full of sugar-plums, gutta-percha monkeys grinned 
on the branches, golden flowers had sprung to life on the 
ends of the twigs, a lovely jewel-like lantern crowned the 
whole, and as to sweets, everybody — servants and all — had 
some delightful devices containing them, whether drum, 
bird, or bird’s nest. 

Before the distribution was over it was observed that 
Aunt Jane and Uncle Reginald, also Harry, had vanished 
from the scene. There was a pause, during which such 
tapers as began to burn ]ierilously low were extinguished, 
an operation as delightful apparently as the fixing them. 
Presently a horn was heard, and a start or shudder of 
mysterious ecstasy ])ervaded the audience, as a tall figure 
-came through the curtains and announced: 

Ladies and gentlemen, 1 have the honor to inform you 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


150 


tliat a fresh discovery lias been made in the secret cham- 
bers of the Pyramid of Chops, otiierwise known as Te- 
Crun-Ter-ra. A nuunniy has been disinterred, whicli is 
about to be opened by the celebrated Egyptologist, Herr 
Professor Freudigfeldius, who has likewise discovered the- 
means of making such a conjuration of the Sphynx that 
she Will not only summon each of the present company by 
name, but will requii'e of each of them to rejily to a ques- 
tion. The penalty of a refusal is well known!’’ 

Therewith the curtains were drawn back, and a .scene 
was presented which made some of the spectators start. 
Behind was the semblance of a wall marked wdth the 
joints of large stones, and lighted (apparently) with two 
brass lamps. On the floor lay extended an enormous 
mummy, with the regulation canvas case, and huge flaps 
of ears, between which appeared a small, painted face, and 
below lay a long, gayly colored scroll in hieroglyphics. 
Exalted stiffly in a seat placid on a seeming block of stone 
was a figure, with elbows, as it were, glued to its sides, 
and hands crossed, altogether stone-colured and monu- 
mental, and with the true Sphynx head, surrounded with 
beetles, lizards and other mystic cieatures (very chocolate- 
colored).* x\nil beside her stood the Herr Professor, in a 
red fez, long dark gown, and spectacles, a flowing beard 
concealing the rest of his face. .How delightful to see 
such an Egyptologist! Even though one jierfectly knew 
the family beard and fez; also that the gown was papa’s 
old ilressing-gown, cajitured for the theatrical wardrobe. 
And how grand to hear him speak, even though his broken 
English continually became more vernacular. 

Liebes Ileiischaft,” he began, vould, nobles, 
gentry, and ladies say. You see here the embalmed restff 
of the celebrated monarch Nic-nac-ci-no. Lately up have 
I them graben, and likewise his tutelar Sphynx have found, 
and have even to give signs of animation compelled.” 

Touching the efflgy with his wand, she emitted certain 
growls and hisses, which made Primrose hide her face in 
alarm at anything so uncanny, and Lord Rotherwood ob- 
serve — 

Nearly related to the cat- goddess Paslit; I thought so. ” 

There was something of the lion or cat in the 
Sphynx,” said Gillian, gravely, while the three little girls 


160 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


olasped each otlier’s hands with delightful thrills of awe 
iind expectation. 

Observe,’’ continued the Professor, '^the outer case 
W'ith the features of the deceased is painted. I should 
conclude that King Nic-nac, etcetera, liad been of a pecul- 
iarly jolly — I ineaiv frolich— nature, judging by the grin 
on his face. We proceed — ” 

As he laid his hand on the wrapper the Si^hynx gave 
utterance to sounds so like the bad language of a cat that 
-some one looked round for one. The Professor waved at 
her and she subsided. He turned back the covering and 
demanded, AVill the amiable Fraulein there. Mademoi- 
selle Valetta, come and see what treasures she can discover 
in the secrets of the tomb?” 

Val, who in right of her birthday had expected the first 
<jall, jumped up; 'but the Sphynx made awful noises as 
•she advanced, and tho Professor explained that she would 
have to answer the Sphynx’s question first. 

But I don’t know Egyptian,” she observed. 

Never mind; it will sound like English.” 

It did so, for it was, How many months old art thou, 
maiden.?” 

Val’s arithmetio was slightly scared. She clasped her 
hand nervously, and was indebted to the Professor for the 
soUo voce hint, twelve nines,” before she uttered “a 
hundred and eight.” 

Tlie Sphynx relapsed into stoiiiness, and the Herr Pro- 
fessor guided the hands, which trembled a little, to the 
interior of the mummy, whence they drew out a basket, 
labeled (wonderful to relate) ‘‘Val,’’ and containing, oh! 
such treasures — a blue egg full of needle-work implements, 
a new book, an Indian ivory case, a skipping-rope, a shut- 
tlecock, and other delights past description. Tlie exhibi- 
tion of'them was only beginning when the Professor called 
for Primrose, who was too much frightened to come alone, 
and therefore was permitted to be brought by Mrs. Half- 
penny. The Sphynx was particularly amiable on this oc- 
casion, and only asked ‘MVhen Primroses came,” and as 
the little one, in her shy fright, did not reply, nurse did 
-SO, with, Come, missie, can’t yon find a word to tell that 
mamma’s Primrose came in spring?” This was allowed to 
pass, and Mrs. Halfpenny bore off her child, clutching n 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


161 


doll’s cradle stuffed with pretty things, and for herself a 
bundle wrapped up in a shawl from Sir Jasper himself. 

After Priinrose was gone to bed the Sphynx became 
Tiiuch more ill-tempered and demonstrative, snarling con- 
siderably at the approacli of some of the party, some of 
whom replied with convulsive laughter, some, such as 
Jasper, with demonstrations of ‘‘poking up the Sphinx. 
She had a question for everybody — Fly was asked, ‘‘ Which 
was best, a tree or a Butterfly’s ball?” and answered, with 
truthful politeness, that where Mysie and Val were was 
best of all. She carried off a collection that had hastily 
been made of Indian curiosities, photographs of her two 
friends, and a book; and her father, after being asked, 
“ What was the best of insects?” and replying, “ On the 
whole, I think it is my house-fly, even when she isn’t a 
butterfly,” received a letter- weigiit of brass, fashioned 
like an enormous fly, which Lady Merri field had snatched 
up from the table for the purpose. The maids giggled at 
the well-known conundrums proposed to them, and Do- 
lores had a very easy question — “ What was the weather 
this day week?” 

“ A horrid wet day,” she promptly answered, and found 
herself endowed with a parcel containing some of the best 
presents of all, bangles from the Indian box, a beautiful 
pair of stork-like scissors, a writing-case, etc. 

“TheSphynx’s invention is running low,” observed 
Jasper to Gillian, when the creature put the same ques- 
tion about last week’s weather to Herbert, the page-boy, 
as a prelude to his discovering the treasures of the mum- 
my, as a knife and an umbrella. Ilis view of the weather 
was that it was “A fine day, ma’am! yes, a fine day.” 

^lacrae came last, and the Sphynx asked him which of 
the two contrary views was right. 

“It was fine, ma’am, that I know. Fori walked down 
with nurse, and little Miss Primrose into Silverton, to 
help to carry her in case she was tired, and we never had 
occasion to pun up an umbrella.” 

Wherewith Macrae received his combination of gifts 
and retired; the mummy being completely rifled, and the 
construction of the body, a frame of light, open wicker- 
work, revealed. Aunt Jane had had it made at the 
basket-maker’s, while as to the head and covering, 
her own ingenious fingers had painted and fashioned 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


them. Everybody Imcl to look at everybody’s pi'cscnts, a 
lengthened operation, and then there was asjilendid game 
at blindman’s-buff in the hall, in wliich all the elders 
joined, except mamma, who had to go and sit in the 
nursery with the restless and excited Primrose while Mrs. 
Halfpenny and Lois went down to the servants’ festivity. 

AVhen she came down agjiin, it was to quiet tlie tempest 
of merriment, and send off the younger folks in succession 
to bed, till only the four elders and Hal remained on the 
scene, waiting.till there was reason to think the household 
would be ready for prayers. 

It was Dolores that you saw at Darminster, Kegi- 
nald,” said Miss Mohun, quietly. 

You Sphynx woman, how do you know?” 

You said it was raining at Darminster.” 

Yes, that it was, everywhere beyond the tunnel through 
theDarfield hills.” 

“Exactly, T know they make a line in the rain-fall. Well, 
here it was dry, but Dolores called it a wet day.” 

“Kow I call that too bad, Jane, to lay a tra]> for the 
poor child in the game,” cried Colonel Mohun, just as if 
they had still been boy and girl together. 

“It was to satisfy my own mind,” she said, coloring a 
little. “I dihPt want any one to act on it. Indeed, 1 
tiiink there will be no occasion.” 

“Besides,” ho added, “it is nothing to go upon! Ko 
doubt, if i' wasn’t raining, it was the next thing to it 
here, and how was she to recollect at this distance of time? 
I won’t have her caught out in that way!” 

“lain glad she lias a chamjiion, Kegie,” said Lady 
Merrifield. “ Here come the servants.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A CIPHER AND A TY. 

Dolores was coming down to breakfast the next morn- 
ing when Colonel Mohuu’s door opened. He exclaimed, 
“ My little Dolly, good-morning!” stooped down and 
kissed her. 

Then, standing still a moment, and holding her hand, 
he said: 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


163 


Dolly, it was not you I saw at Darniiiister station?” 

It was a terrible slioek! Some one, no doubt, was try- 
ing to set liirn against hei’. And should she betray 
Constance and her uncle? At any rate, almost before she 
knew what she was saying, “ No' Uncle Kegie,” was out 
of her mouth, and her conscience was being answered 
with ** How do I know it was me that lie saw? these fur 
cupes are very common.” 

“I thought not,” he answered, kindly. Look here, 
Dolly, I want one word with you. Did your father ever 
leave anything in charge with von for Mr.' Flinders? Did 
he ever speak to you about him?” 

“Never,” Dolores truly answered. 

“Because, my dear, though it’s a hard thing to say, 
nnd your poor mother felt bound to him, he is ii slippery 
fellow — a scamp, in fact, and if ever he writes to 3mu here, 
3’ou liad better send the letter straight otL to me and I’ll 
see what’s to be done. He never has, I snp|)ose?” 

“ No,” said Dolores, answei'ing the word here, and fool- 
ishly feeling the involvement too.great, .and Constance too 
much concerned in it for her to confess to her uncle what 
had really happened. Indeed, the first falsehood held her 
to the second; and there was no more time, for Lord 
Rotherwood was coming out of his room further down the 
passage. • And after the greetings, as she went down-stairs 
before the two gentlemen, she was sure she heard Uncle 
Regie say, “ She’s all right.” Wh.at could it mean? Was a 
storm avei-ted? or was it brewing? Could that spiteful 
Aunt Jane and her questions about the weather be at the 
bottom of it? 

The fun that was going on at breakfast seemed a mere 
roar of folly to her, and she had an instinct of nothing 
buf getting away to Constance. She soon found that there 
would be opportunity enough, for the tree w’jis to be taken 
down in a barrow, and all tlie youthful world was to carry 
down the decorations in baskets, and help to put them on. 
She dashed off among the first to put on her things, and 
then was disappointed to find that first all the pets were 
to be fed and shown off to Fly, who appreciated them far 
more than she had done — knew how to lay hold of a rab- 
bit, nursed the guinea-pigs and puppies in turn, and was 
rapturous in her acceptance of two young guinea-pigs and 
one puppy. 


164 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


I can keep tliem up in daddy’s dressing-room whila 
we are at High Court, and it will be sucii fun,” she said. 

“ AVill he let you?” asked Gillian, in some doubt. 

“Oh! daddy will always let me, and so will Griffin — 
his man, you know, only we left him in London because 
daddy said he would be in your butler’s way, but 1 can’t 
think why. Griffin would have helped about the tree 
and learned to make a mummy when we have our party. 
Louise would not let me have them in the nursery, I 
know, but daddy and Griffin would, and I could go and 
feed them in the morning before breakfast. Griffin would 
get me bran! That is, if we d > go to High Court; I wish 
we were to stay on here. There’s nobody to play with at 
High Court, and grandpapa always keeps daddy talking 
politics, so that lean Lardly ever get him! Mysie, what- 
ever do you do with your fnther away in India?” 

“Yes, it is horrid. J3ut then, there’s mamma,” said 
Mysie, whispering, however, as she saw Dolores near, and 
feared to hurt her feelings. 

“ Ah!” said Fly, with^i tender little shake of her head;. 
“ ’tis worse for her to have no mother at all ! Is that why 
she looks so sad?” 

“ ‘ Cross ’ is the word,” said Wilfred. “I can’t think 
what she is come bothering down here for!” 

“Oh! for shame, Wilfred!” said Fly. “You should 
be sorry for her.” 

And she went up to Dolores, and by way of doing the 
kindest thing in the word, said — 

“Here’s my new puppy. Is not he a dear? I’ll let 
you hold him,” and she attempted to deposit the fat, 
curly, satiny creature in Dolores’ arms, which instantly 
luing down stiff, as she answered, half in fright, “I hate 
dogs!” The puppy fell down with a flop, and began to 
squeak, while the girls, crying, “Oh! Dolly, how could 
you!” and “Poor little pup!” all crowded round in pity 
and indignation, and Wilfred observed, “I told you so!” 

“You’ll get no change but that out of the Lady of 
the Rueful Countenance,” said Jasper. 

Mysie had for once nothing to say in Dolores’ defense, 
being equally hurt for Fly’s sake and the puppy’s. Do- 
lores found herself virtually sent to Coventry; as she ac- 
companied the party across the paddock, only just near 
enough to benefit by their protection from the herd of 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 


165 


half-grown calves which were there disporting themselves: 
and, as if to make the contrast still more provoking. 
Fly, who had a natural affinity for all animals, insisted 
on trying to attract them, calling “ Sukkey! snkkey!” 
and holding out bunches of grass, in vain, for they only gal- 
loped away, alid she could only explain how tame those at 
home were, and how she went out farming with daddy 
whenever he had time, and mother and Friiulein would 
let her out. 

The tree, meantime, came trundling down, a wonderful 
spectacle, with all its gilt halls and fir-cones nodding and 
dangling Avildly, and its other embellishments turning 
upside down. There were greetings of delight at Case- 
ment Cottage, and Miss Racket had kissed evei^body all 
round before Gillian had time to present the new-comer, 
and then the good lady was shocked at her own presump- 
tion, and exclaimed: 

‘‘1 beg your ladyship’s pardon! Dear me! I had no 
notion who it was!'’ 

“Then, please kiss me again, now you do know,” said 
Fly, holding up her funny little face to that very lovable 
kind one, and they were all soon absorbed in the diffi- 
culty of getting the tree in at the front door, and setting 
it up in the room that had been prepared for it. 

Dolores had hoped to confide her alarms to Constance’s 
sympathetic ear; but her friend, who had written and 
dreamed of many a magnificently titled scion of the peer- 
age, but had never before seen one in her own house, had 
uot a minute to spare for her, being far too much en- 
grossed in observing the habits of the animal. Tliese cer- 
tainly were peculiar, since she insisted on a waltz round 
the room Avith the tabby cat, and ascended a step-ladder, 
merrily spurning Jasper’s protection, to insert the circle 
of tapers on the crowning chandelier. There Avas nothing- 
left for Dolores to do but to sit by in the Avindow-seat, 
philosophizing on the remarkable effects of a handle to 
one’s name, and feeling cruelly neglected. 

Suddenly she saw a fly coming iip to the gate. There 
Avas a general peeping and Avondering. Then Uncle llegi- 
nald and a stranger got out and came up to the door. 
Tiiere Avas a ring — everybody paused and wondered for a 
moment; then the maid tapped at the door and said. 


160 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

Would Miss Molmn come and speak (o Colonel Mohuii 
a minute in the drawing-room?” ^ 

There was a luish of dread throughout the room. 

All!” sighed Miss Ilacket, looking at Gillian, and all 
the elders thought without saying that some terrible news 
of her father had to be told to the poor child. They let 
her go, frightened at the summons, but that idea not oc- 
curring to her. 

Tliere!” said Uncle Regie, ^^she can set it straight. 
Don’t be frightened, my dear; only tell this gentleman 
whether that is your writing.” 

The stranger held a strip so that she could only just see 

Dolores ^I. Mohun,” and she unhesitatingly answered 

Yes ” — very much surprised. 

iTou are sure?” said her uncle, in a tone of disap- 
pointment that made her falter, as she added, ‘‘I tliink 
so.” At the same time the stranger turned the paper 
round, and she knew it for the check that had so long re- 
sided in her desk, but with dilated eyes, she exclaimed. 

But — but — that was for seven pounds!” 

That,^^ said the stranger, “ then, ^liss Mohun, you 
know this draft?” 

^^Only it was for seven,” repeated Dolores. 

“You mean, I conclude, that it was drawn for seven 
pounds, and that it was still for seven when it left your 
hands?” 

“Yes,” muttered Dolores, who was beginning to get 
very much frightened, at she knew not what, and to feel 
on her guard at all points. 

“ There’s nothing to be afraid of, my dear,” said Uncle 
Reginald, tenderly; “nobody suspects you of anything. 
Only tell us. Did vour father give you this paper?” 

“Yes.” " ‘ ' 

“ And when did you cash it?” asked the clerk. 

Dolores hung her head. “ I didn’t,” she said. 

“ But how did it get out of your possession?” said her 
uncle. “ You are sure this is your own writing at the 
back. It could surely not have been stolen from her?” 
he added to the stranger. 

“ That could hardly be,” said that person. “ Miss 
^lohun, you had better speak out. To whom did you 
give this check?” 

There was a whirl of terror all around about Dolores, 


107 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 

a horror of bringing herself first, then Uncle Alfred, 
Oonstiince, and everybody else into trouble. She took 
1‘efuge in uttering not a word. 

Dolores,” said her uncle, and his tone was now mucli 
more grave and less tender, thus increasing her terror, 

this silence is of no use. Did you s:ive this check to 
Mr. Flinders?” 

In the silence, the ticks of the clock on the mantel- 
piece seemed like a hammer beating on herears. Dolores 
thought of the morning’s flat denial of all intercourse with 
Flinders! Then the word give occurred to her as a loop- 
hole, and her mind did not embrace all the consequences 
of the denial, she only saw one thing at a time, I didn’t 
give it,” she answered, almost inaiulibly. 

‘^You did not give it?” repeated her uncle, getting 
angry and speaking loud. Then how did it get into his 
hands? Is there no truth in you?” he added, after a 
pause, which only terrified her more and more’ Wliom 
did you give it to?” 

‘‘Constance!” The word came out she hardly knew 
how, as something which at least was true. Colonel 
Mohun knocked at the door of the room she had come 
from. It was instantly opened, and Miss Hackel began, 
“ Tliat poor dear! Can I get anything for her, I am sure 
it is a terrible shock!” and as he stood, astonished, Gillian 
added, “Oh! I see it isn’t that. We were afraid it was 
sometliing about Uncle Maurice.” 

“ No, my dear, no such thing. Only would Miss Con- 
stance liacket be kind enough to come here a minute?” 

“Oh! ^My apron! My fingers! E;xcuse me for being 
such a figure!” Constance ran on, as Colonel Mohun 
made her come across to the room opposite, where she 
looked about her in amazement. Was tlie stranger a pub- 
lisher about to make her an offer for the “Waif of the 
Moorland”? But Dolores’ downcast attitude and set, 
sullen face forbade the idea. 

“ Miss Constance liacket,” said the colonel, “here is 
an uncomfortable matter in which we want your assist- 
ance, Will you kindly answer a question or two from 
Mr. Ellis, the manager of the Bank?” 

Then the manager politely asked her if she had seen 
the check before. 


168 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

f*' Yes — why — what’s wrong about it? Oh! it is for sev- 
enty! Why, Dolores, I thought it was only for seven?’’ 

“ It *vas for seven when you parted with it, then, Miss 
Racket, ” said the manager; let me ask whether you 
changed it yourself?” 

‘‘ Ro,” she said, I sent it to — ” and there she came 
to a dead pause, in alarm. 

Did you send it to Mr. Alfred Flinders?” asked Mr. 
Ellis. 

‘‘Yes — oh!” another little scream. “Ho can’t have 
done it. He can’t be such a villain! Your own uncle, * 
Dolores.” 

“ He is no uncle of Dolores Mohun!” said the colonel. - 
“He is only the son of her mother’s step-mother by her 
first marriage.” 

“ Oh, Dolores, then you deceived me!” exclaimed Con- 
stance; “ you told me it was your own uncle, or I would 
never — and oh! my fifteen pounds. Whore is he?” 

“ That, madam,” said IMr. Ellis, gravely, “ 1 hope the 
police may discover. He has quitted Darminster, after • 
having cashed this check for seventy pounds. We have - 
already telegraphed to the police to be on the lookout for 
him, but I much fear that it will be too late.” 

“Oh! my fifteen pounds! What shall I do? Oh, 
Dolores, how could you? I shall never trust any one 
again!” 

Perhaps Uncle Reginald felt the same, but he only 
darted a look upon his niece, which she felt in every . 
nerve, though to his eyes she only stood hard and stolid. 
The manager, who found Constance’s torrent of words as 
hard to deal with as Dolores’ silence, asked for pen and 
ink, and begged to take down Miss Hacket’s statement to 
lay before a magistrate in case of Flinders’s apprehension. 

It was not very easy to keep her to the point, especially 
as her chief interest was in her own fifteen pounds, of ^ 
which Mr. Ellis only would say that she could prosecute 
the man for obtaining money on false pretenses, and this 
she trusted meant getting it back again. As to the check 
in question, she told how Dolores had intrusted it to her 
to send to her supposed uncle, ^Ir. Flinders, to whom it .. 
had been promised the day tliey went to Darminster, and 
she was quite ready to depose that when it left her hands, 
it was only for seven pounds. 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 169 

This was all that the bank manager wanted. He 
tlianked her, told Colonel Mohun they should hear from 
him, and went off in a hurry, both to communicate with 
the police, and to leave the young ladies to be dealt with 
by their friends, who, he might well suppose,would rather 
that he removed himself. 

“Put on your hat, Dolores,” said Colonel Mohun, 
gravely; “you had better come home with me! Miss 
Hacket, excuse me, but 1 am afraid I must ask whether 
you have been assisting in a correspondence between my 
niece and this Flinders?” 

“ Oh! Colonel Mohun, you will believe me, I was quite 
deceived. Dolores represented that he was her uncle, to 
whom she was much attached, and that Lady Merrifield 
separated her from him out of mere family prejudice.” 

“ I am afi’ciid you have paid dearly for your sympathy,” 
said the colonel. “It certainly led you far when you as- 
sisted your friend- to deceive the aunt who trusted you 
with her.” 

The movement that was taking place seemed like license 
to that roomful, burning with curiosity to break out. 
Mysie was running after Dolores to ask if she could do 
anything for her, but Colonel Mohun called her back 
with “ Not now, Mysie.” Miss Hacket came forward 
with agitated hopes that nothing was amiss, and, at sight 
of her, Constance collapsed quite. “ Oh, Mary,” she 
cried out, “I have been so deceived! Oh! that man!” 
and she sunk upon a chair in a violent fit of crying, which 
alarmed Miss Hacket so dreadfully that she looked im- 
ploringly up to Colonel 3Iohun. He had meant to have left 
Miss Constance to explain, but he saw it was necessary to 
relieve the poor elder sister’s mind from worse fears by 
saying, “I am afraid it is my niece who deceived her by 
leading her into forwarding letters and money to a person 
who calls himself a relation. He seems to have been 
guilty of a forgery, which may have unpleasant con- 
sequences. Children, I think you had better follow us 
home.” 

Dolores had come down by this time, and Colonel Mo- 
hun walked home, at some paces from her, very much as 
if he had been guarding a criminal under arrest. Poor 
Uncle Eeginald! He had put such absolute trust in the two 
answers she had made him in the morning; and had been 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


■J70 

so sure of her good faith, that when the manager broiiglit 
word that the check had been traced to Flinders, who had 
absconded, he still held that it was a barefaced forgery, 
entirely due to Flinders himself, and that Dolores could 
show that she had no knowledge of it, and ho had gone 
down in the fly expecting to come home triumphant, and 
confute his sister Jane, who persisted in being mournful- 
ly sagacious. And ho was indignant in proportion to the 
confidence he had misplaced; grieved, too, for his broth- 
er’s sake, and absolutely ashamed. 

Once he asked, when they wore wilhin the paddock, 
out of the way of meeting any one, Have you nothing to 
say to me, Dolores?” 

It was not said in a manner to draw out an answer, and 
she made none at all. 

Again he spoke, as they came near the house: 

“ You had better go up to your room at once. I do 
not know how to think of the blow this will be to your 
father.” 

It was so entirely what Dolores was thinking of, that it 
seemed to her barbarous to tell her of it. In fact she was 
stunned, scarcely understanding what had happened, and 
too proud and miserable to ask for an exphination, for 
had not every one turned against her, even Uncle Regi- 
nald and Constance — and what had happened to that 
check? 

She did not see Uncle Reginald turn into the drawing- 
room, and letting himself drop despairingly into an arm- 
chair, say, ^MVell, Jane, you were right, more’s the 
pity!” 

She really gave him the check!” 

Yes, but at least it was only for seven. The rascal 
himself must have altered it into seventy. She and the 
other girl both agree as to that. There’s been a clandes- 
tine correspondence going on with that scamp ever since 
she has been here, under cover to that precious friend of 
hers — that ITacket girl.” 

"‘Ah! you warned me, Jenny,” said Lady ]\Ierritlcld. 

But I’m quite sure Miss Racket knew nothing of it.” 

“ I don’t suppose she did. She seemed struck all of a 
heap. Any way they’ve quarreled now; the other one 
has has turned King’s evidence— has lost some money 
too, and says Dolores deceived her. She’s deceived every 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 


l?i 


one all round, that’s the fact. Why, she told me two flat 
lies tliis very morning — lies — there’s no other name for it. 
^VU at will yon do witli lier, Lily?” 

1 don’t know,” said Lady Meirifield, utterly shocked, 
and recollecting, but not mentiojiing, the falsehood told 
to iier about the note. Lord Rotherwood said, “ poor 
child,” and Colonel Mohiin groaned, ‘‘poor Maurice.” 

“ Then she did go to Darminster?” said Miss Mohun. 

“Yes; that came out from this Miss Constance, who 
seems to have been properly taken in about sotne publish- 
ing trash. Serve her right! But it seems Dolores be- 
guiled her with stories about her dear uncle in distress. 
AVe left her nearly in hysterics, and I told the children to 
come away.” 

“ What does Dolores say?” asked Jane. 

“ Nothing! T could not get a word out of her after the 
first surprise at the alteration of the check. Not a word 
nor a tear. She is as hard — as hard as a bit of stone.” 

“ Really,” said Lady Merrifield, “ I can’t help thinking 
there’s a good deal of excuse for her.” 

“ Wliat? That poor Maurice’s wife was half a heathen, 
and afterward the girl was left to chance?” said Colonel 
Mohun. “I see no other. And you, Lily, are the last 
])erson I should expect to excuse untruth.” 

1 did not mean to do that. Regie; but you all say 
that poor Mary was fond of this man and helped him.” 

‘•That she did!” said Lord Rotherwood, “and very 
much against the grain it went with Maurice.” 

“ Then don’t you see that this poor child, who prob- 
ably never had the matter explained to her, may have felt 
it a great hardship to be cut off from the man her mother 
taught her to care for; and that may have led her into 
concealments ?” 

“Weil!” said Colonel Mohun, “at that rate, at least 
one may be thankful never to have married.” 

“One — or two, Regie?” said Jane, as they all laughed 
at his sally. “I think I had better go up and see 
whether I can get anything out of the child. Do you mean 
to have her down to dinner, Lily:” she added, glancing 
at the clock. 

“ Oh yes, certainly. I don’t want to put her to dis- 
grace before all the children and servants — that is, if she 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


ITZ 

is not crying herself out of condition to appear, poor 
child.” 

‘'Xot she,” said Uncle Eeginald. 

On opening the door, the children were all discovered 
in the hall, in anxious curiosity, not venturing in uncalled, 
but very rnucli nuzzled. 

Gillian came forward and said, '' Mamma, may we know 
what IS the matter?” 

I hardly understand it myself yet, my dear, only that 
Dolores and Constance Hacket have let themselves be 
taken in by a sort of relation of Dolores’ mother, and 
Uncle Maurice iias lost a good deal of money through it. 
It would not have happened if there had been fair. and 
upright dealing toward me; but we do not know the 
rights of it, and you had better take no notice of it to 
her.” 

‘"I thought,” said Valetta, sagaciously, no good 
could come of running after that stupid Miss Constance.” 

Who can’t pull a cracker, and screams at a daddy 
long-legs,” added Fergus. 

“ But, mamma, wliat shall we do?” said Gillian. “ I 
came away because Uncle Regie told us, and poor Con- 
stance was crying so terribly; but what is poor Miss 
Ilacket to do? There is the tree only half dressed, and 
all the girls coming to-night, unless she puts them off.” 

“ Yes, you had better go down alone as soon as dinner 
is over, and see what she would like,” said Lady Merri- 
field. “ We must not leave her in the lurch, as if we cast 
her off, thougli I am afraid Constance has been veryfool- 
ish in this matter. Oh, Gillian, I wisli we could have 
made Dolores happier amongst us, and then this would 
not have happened.” 

“ She would never let us, mamma,” said Gillian. 

But Mysie, coming up close to her mother as they all 
went up the broad staircase to prepare for the midday 
meal, confessed in a grave little voice, “ Mamma, I think 
I have sometimes been cross to Dolly — more lately, because 
■it has been so very tiresome.” 

Lady Merrifield drew the little girl into her own room, 
stooped down, and kissed her, saying, “ My dear child, 
these things need a great deal of patience. You will have to 
be doubly kind and forbearing now, for she must be very 
unhappy, and perhaps not like to show it. You might say 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 1?3 

11 little prayer for her, that God will help us to be kind to 
her, and soften lier heart.” 

Oh, yes, mamma; and, please, will you set it down 
for me?” 

Yes, my dear, and for myself too. You shall have it 
before bed-time.” 

Aunt Jane had followed Dolores to her own room, 
riie girl, who was sitting on her bed, dazed, regretted 
that she had not bolted her door, as her aunt entered 
with the words, Oh, Dolores, I am very sorry, I could 
not have thought you would so have abused the confidence 
that was placed in you.” 

To this Dolores did not answer. To her mind she was 
the person ill-used by the prohibition of correspondence, 
but she could not say so. Every one was falling on her; 
but Aunt Jane’s questions could not well help being an- 
swered. 

“ What will your father think of it?” 

He never forbade me to write to Uncle Alfred,” said 
Dolores. 

‘‘Because he never thought of your doing such a thing. 
Did he give you this check?” 

“ Yes.” 

“For yourself?” 

— n — o. But it was the same.” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“ It was to pay a man — a man’s that’s dead.” 

“That may be; but what riglit did that give you to 
spend the money otherwise? Who was the man?” 

“Professor Miihlwasser, for some books of plates.” 

“How do you know he is dead! Who told you so? 
Eh! Was it Flinders? Ah! you see what comes of trust- 
ing to an unprincipled man like that. If you had only 
been open and straightforward with Aunt Lily, or with 
any of us, you would have been saved from this tissue of 
falsehood; forfeiting your Uncle Reginald’s good opinion, 
and enabling Flinders to do your father this great injury.” 
She paused, and, as Dolores made no answer, she went on 
again: “Indeed, there is no saying what you have pot 
brought on yourself by your deceit and disobedience. If 
Flinders is apprehended, you will have to appear against 
him in court, and publicly avow that you gave away what 
your father trusted to you.” 


174 


THE TWO SIDES OP THE SHIELD. 


Dolores g;iV8 ii little moan and start, and her aunt, per-^ 
ceiving that she had touclied an apparently vulnerable- 
spot, proceeded: ‘‘Tl)e only thing left for you to do is to 
tell the whole story frankly and honestly. I don’t say so 
only for the sake of showing Aunt Lily that you ai-e sorry 
for having abused her confidence. I wish I could think 
that you are; but, unless we know all, we can not shield 
you from any further consequences, and that of course we 
should wish to do, for your father’s sake.” 

Dolores did not feel drawn to confession, but she knew 
that when Aunt Jane once set herself to ask questions, 
there was no use in trying to conceal anything. So she 
made answers, chiefly “Yes” or “No,” and her aunt, 
by severe and diligent })umping, had extracted bit by bit 
wliat it was most essential should be known, before the 
gong summoned them. Dolores would rather have been 
a solitary })risoner, able to chafe against o})pression, than 
have been ooliged to come down and confront everybody; 
but she crept into the place left for her between Mysie 
and Wilfred. She had very little appetite, and never 
found out how Mysie was fulfilling lier resolution of kind- 
ness by balking Wilfred of sundry attempts to tease; by 
substituting her own kissing-crust for Dolly’s more un- 
poetical piece of bread; and offering to exchange her de- 
licious strawberry-jam ta^ulet for the black-curraiit one at 
which her cousi!) was looking with I'oluctant eyes. 

Mysie and Valetta were grievouslv exen-oised ahont 
their chances of returning to the G.F.S. Ti'ce. Indeed 
Gillian went the length of telling them that Fly was be- 
having far better in her disappointrneiit as to tiie Ihitt<‘r- 
fly’s Ball than they were as to this “ old second-hami 
tree.” Fly laughed and observed, “ Dean* me, things oik 
would like are always being stopped. If one was t(; mine 
every time, how horrid it would be! And there’s alwa\s 
something to make u})!” 

Tiien it occurred to Gillian, though not to her younger 
sisters, that Lady Phyllis Devereux lived in general a 
much less indulged, and more frequenily disappointed,, 
life than did lierself and her sisters. 

Eowever, there was great delight at that dinner-table. 
Jasper had ridden to get the letters of the second post, 
and Lord Rotherwood had his hands and his head full of 
them when he came in to luncheon — there being what 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


175 


Lady Merrifield cailnd a respectable dinner in view. In 
the first place, Lord Ivinghoe was getting on very well, 
:and was up, sitting by the fire, playing patience. No- 
body was catching the measles, and quarantine would be 
over on the 9th of January. Secondly, “Fly, shall yoif 
be very brohen-hcarted if I tell yon?’^ 

“ Oh, daddy, you wouldn’t look like that if it was any- 
thing very bad! Lion isn’t dead?” 

“ No; but I grieve to say your unnatural grandparents 
don’t want you! Grandmamma is nervous about having 
you without mamma. What did we do last time we were 
there, Fly?” 

“ "Don’t you remember, daddy? They said there wiis 
nothing for me to ride to the meet, and you and Griffin 
put the side-saddle on Crazy Kate, and we went out with 
the hounds, and I’ve got tlie brush up in my room!” 

“I don’t wonder grandmamma is nervous,” observed 
Lady Merrifield. 

“ Will you be nervous, Ijily,” said Lord Rotherwood, 
“if this same flyaway mortal is left on vour hands till 
the 9th?” 

Dinner, manners, silence before company, and all, 
could not repress a general scream of ecstasy, which called 
forth the reply, “I should tliink you and her mother 
were the peo|)le to be nervous. 

“ Oh! my lady has been duly instructed in Merrifield 
perfections, and esteems you a model mother.” 

The children’s nods and smiles said, “ Hear, hear!” 

“ Wtdl, you’ve got it all in her own letter,” continued 
Lord Rotherwood. “ You see, they’ve got a caucus at 
High Court, and a dinner, and I must go up there on 
Monday; but if you’ll keep this dangerous Fly — ” 

“ I can answer for the pleasure it will give.” 

“Well, then, I’ll come back for her by the 9th, and 
you’ve Victoria’s letter, haven't you?” 

“ Yes, it is very kind of her.” 

“ Then I shall expect you to be ready to start with me 
for the Butterfly’s Ball. Eh, young ladies, what will you 
come out as?” 

“Oh, daddy, daddy, is it? Has mamma asked them? 
Oh! it is more delicious than anything ever was. Mysie, 
Mysie, what will you be?” 


176 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


^‘^Tlie sly little dormouse crept out of his hole/’* 
quoted Mysie, in u very low, happy voice. 

“ Aud I will be a jolly old frog,’’ shouted Fergus, find- 
ing the ordinance of silence broken and making the most 
bf it, on the presumption that the whole family were in- 
vited. However, the tone, rather than the uncomjire- 
bended words of his mother’s answer, Nobody asked 
you, sir,” she said, reduced him to silence, and it became 
understood, through Fly’s inquiries, that the invitation 
included Lady Merrifield and three children, though the 
mother made it known that a promised visit from old 
Mrs. Merrifield must make her acceptance doubtful. And 
besides, the question which three were to go was the un- 
spoken drawback to full bliss, and yet the delight was 
exceedingly great in the prospect, great enough to make 
the contrast of gloom in poor Holores’ spirit all the 
darker, as she sat, left out of everything, and she could 
not now say, with absolute injustice, though she still 
clung to the belief tliat there was more misfortune than 
fault in her disgrace. 

She crept away, shivering with unhappiness, to the 
school-room, while the others frisked off discussing the 
wonderful Butterfly’s Ball. Lady Merrifield looked in 
on her, and she hardened herself to endure either another 
probing or fresh reproaches, but all she heard was, My 
dear, I can not talk over this sad affair now, as I have to 
go out. But, if you can, I think you had better write to 
your father about it, and let him understand exactly how 
it happened. Or, if you had rather write than speak in 
explaining it to me, you can do so, and we can consider 
to-morrow what is to be done about it.” 

Then she went out with her brother and cousin to drive 
to some industrial schools which Lord Kotherwood wanted 
to see . 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE butterfly’s BALL. 

Miss Mohun went to the Casement Cottages with 
Gillian to see what the elder Miss Hacket might wish, and 
whether they could be of any use to her; the young people 
being left to exercise themselves within call in case the- 
Tree was to be continued. 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


m 


This proved to be an act of great kindness, for poor 
Mary Ilacket was suffering all tlio distress of an upriglit 
and honorable woman at her sister’s abuse of confidence; 
and Imd felt as if Colonel Moliun’s summons to his nieces 
was the close of all intimacy with sucli an unworthy 
household. Moreover, the evening’s entertainment could 
not be given up, and Gillian was dispatched to summon 
the eager assistants; wliile Aunt Jane repeated her assur- 
ances tliat Lady Merrifield ])erfectly understood Miss 
Hacket’s .sheer ignorance of the doings in Constance’s 
room; listening patiently even when the tender-hearted 
woman began to excuse her sister for having accepted 
Dolores’ lamentations at being cut off from her so-called 
uncle. Dear Connie is so romantic, and so easily 
touched,” slie said, ‘‘ though, of course, it was very wrong 
of her to suppose that Lady Merrifield could do anything 
harsh or unkind. She is in great grief now, poor darling, 
she feels so bitterly that her friend led her into it by de- 
ceiving her about the relationship and character.” 

This, Aunt Jane did not think the worst part of the 
affair, and she said that the girl had been brought up to 
call the man Uncle Alfred, and very possibly did not un- 
derstand that he was only so by courtesy, nor that he was 
so utterly untrustworthy. 

1 thought so,” said Mary Hacket. I told Connie 
that such a child could not possibly have been a willing 
])arty to his fraud — for fraud, I fear, it was — Miss Mohun. 
Do you think there is any hope for her recovering the sum 
she advanced.” 

“ I am afraid there is not, even if the wretched man is 
apprehended.” 

“ Ah! if she had only told me what she wanted it for!” 

I hope it was all her own.” 

“ Oh, Miss Mohun, no doubt you know that two sisters 
living together must accommodate one another a little, and 
Connie’s dress expenses, at her age, are necessarily more 
than mine. But here come the dear children, and we 
ought to dismiss all painful subjects, though I declare I 
am so nervous I hardly know what 1 am about. 

However, by Miss Mohun’s help, the good lady rose to 
the occasion, and when once busy, the trouble was thrown 
off, so that no guests would have detected how unhaj^py 
she had been in the forenoon. Constance soon came ^ 


1T8 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


down, and confided to Gillian a parcel directed to Miss 
D. Mohun, containing all the notes written to her, and 
4 ill tlie books lent to her, by the false friend whom she 
had cast off, after which she threw lierself into the inter- 
ests of tlie present. 

The London ornaments, and the residue of tlie gifts and 
bonbons, made tlie Christmas-tree a most memorable one 
to the G.F.S. mind. 

As to Fly, she fraternized to a great extent with a very 
small maid, in a very long, brown dress, and very thick 
boots, who did not taste a single bonbon, and being asked 
whether she understood that they were good to eat, re- 
plied that she was keeping tlieni for “ our Bertie and 
Minnie;” and, on encouragement, launched into such a 
description of her charges — the blacksmith’s small chil- 
dren — that Lady Phyllis w^ent back, not without regrets 
that she could not be a little nurse who had done with 
school at twelve years old, and spent her days at the back 
of a perambulatoi*. 

“ Oh, daddy,” she said, I do wish you had come down; 
it was such lovely fun — the best tree 1 ever saw. Why 
wouldn’t you come?” 

If thirty odd years should pass over that little liead 
of yours, my Lady Fly, and you should then meet with 
iMysie and Yal, may be you will then learn the reason 
why.” 

“ We will recollect that in thirty years’ time.” 

When our children go to a Christmas-tree.” 

And we sit over the fire instead.” 

“Oh! but should we ever not care fora dear, delightful 
C'hristmas-tree?” 

“If we had each other instead.” 

“Then we would all go still together!” 

“And tell our little boys and girls all about this one, 
and the Butterfly’s Ball!” 

“ Perhaps our husbands would want us, and not let us 
go.” 

“Oh! I don’t want a husband. He’d bo in the way. 
We’d send him off to India or somewhere, like Aunt 
Lily’s.” 

“ Don’t, Fly; it is not at all nice to have papa away.” 

“Oh yes, it would be ten hundred times better if he 
were at home.” 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


179 


Slid) were the mingled sentiments of the triad, as they 
went upstairs to bed, linked together in their curious 
fashion. 

Some time later, a bedroom discussion of affairs was 
lield by Lady Merritield, and Miss Mohun, who had not 
had a moment alone together all day, to converse u}k)Ii 
the two vcM-sions of tlie disaster which the latter had ex- 
tracted from Dolores and Constance, and winch fairly 
agreed, though Constance had been by far the m»>si; 
voluble, and sornewliat ungenerously violent against her 
former friend, at least so Ltidy Merrifield remarktd. 

“ You should take into account the authoress’s disap^ 
pointed vanity.” 

Yes, poor thing! How he must have flattered lier!” 

“ Besides, there is the loss of the money, which, I fear, 
falls as seiioLisly on good Miss Hacket as on the goose her- 
self.” 

Does it, indeed? That must not be. How much is 

it?” 

“ Fifteen pounds; and that foolish Constance fancies 
that poor Dolores assisted in duping her. 1 really lia<l to 
defend the girl; though I am just as angry myself when I 
watch her adamantine sullenness.” 

I am the person to be angry with for having allowed 
the inti many, in spite of your warnings, Jenny.” 

You were too innocent to know what girls are n.ade 
of. On, ves. you are very welcome to have six of your 
own, but you mi^rht have six dozen without knowing what 
a girl brought up. at a second-rate board ing-s(diool is ca- 
pable of, or what it is to have had no development <-r 
conscicmce. Wtiat shall you do? Send her to school?’' 

“ After that recommendation of yours?” 

“ I didn’t propdse as(‘cond-rate boarding-school, ma’anu 
Tliere’s a high school starting after the liolidays at Rock- 
stone. Let me iiave her, and send her there.” 

‘‘ Ada would not like it.” 

“ Never mind, Ada, I’ll settle her. I would keep Dolly 
well up to her lessons, and prevent these friendships.” 

“ 1 su [)pose YOU would manage her better than I have 
7)een able to do,” said I^adv .Merrifield, reluctantly. “ Yet 
I shoiihl like to trv again: 1 don't want to let her go. I& 
it tlie old story of duty and lov •, Jane? Have I failed 


180 THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 

again' through negligence and ignorance, and deceived 
myself by culling weakness and blindness love?’’ 

“ You don’t fail with your own, Lily. Rotherwood 
runs about admiring them, and saying he never saw a bet- 
ter iinion^of freedom and obedience. It was really a treat 
to see Gillian’s ways to-night; she had so much considera- 
tion, and managed her sisters so well.” 

Ah, but there’s their father! I do so dread spoiling 
them for him before he comes home; but then he is a 
present influence with us all the time.” 

They would all clan their hands if I carried Lolly 

off.” 

Yes, and that is one reason I don’t want to give her 
up; it seems so sad to send Maurice’s child away leaving 
such an impression. One thing I am thankful for that it 
will be all over before grandmamma and Bessie Merrifield 
come.” 

At that moment there was a knock at the door, and a 
small figure appeared in a scarlet robe, bare feet, and di- 
sheveled hair. 

'^Mysie, dear child! What’s the matter? who is ill?” 

Oh, please come, mamma, Dolly is choking and cry- 
ing in such a dreadful way, and I can’t stop her.” 

‘‘I give up, Lily. This is mother- work,” said Miss 
Mohun. 

Hurrying upstairs. Lady Merrifield found very distress- 
ing sounds issuing from Dolores’ room; sobs, not loud, 
but almost strangled into a perfect agony of choking down 
by the resolute instinct, for it was scarcely will. 

My dear, my dear, don’t stop it!” she exclaimed, lift- 
ing up the girl in her arms. ‘‘Let it out; cry freely; 
never mind. She will be better soon, Mysie dear. Only 
get me a glass of water, and find a fresli handkerchief. 
There, there, that’s right!” as Dolores let herself lean on 
the kind breast, and conscious that the utmost effects of 
the disturbance had come, allowed her long-drawn sobs to 
come freely, and moaned as they shook her whole frame, 
though without screaming. Her aunt propped her up on 
her own bosom, parted back her hair, kissed her, and say- 
ing she was getting better, sent Mysie back to her bed. 
The first words that were gasped out between the rending 
sobs were, “ Oh! is my — he — to be tried?” 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


181 


Most likely not, my dear. He lias had full time to 
get away, and I hope it is so.’’ 

‘‘But wasn’t he there? Haven’t they got him? Weren’t 
they asking me about him, and saying I must be tried for 
stealing father’s clieck?” 

You were dreaming, my poor child. They have not 
taken him, and I am quite sure you will not be tried any- 
way.” 

•‘They said — Aunt Jane and Uncle Reginald and all, 
and that dreadful man that came — ” 

“ Perhaps they said you might have to be examined, 
but only if he is apprehended, and I fully expect that he is 
out of reach, so that you need not frighten yourself about 
that, my dear.” 

“ Oh, don’t go!” cried Dolores, as her aunt stirred. 

“ No, Pm not going. I was only reaching some water 
for you. Let me sponge your face.” 

To this Dolores submitted gratefully, and then sighed, 
ns if under heavy oppression, “ And did he really do it?” 

“I am afraid he must have done so.” 

“ I never thought it. Mother always helped him.” 

"‘Yes, my dear, that made it very hard for yon to know 
what was right to do, and this is a most terrible shock for 
you,” said her aunt, feeling unable to utter another re- 
proach just then to one who had been so loaded with 
blame, and she was touched the more when Dolores 
moaned, “Mother would have cared so much.” 

She answered with a kiss, was glad to find her hand 
still held, and forgot that it was past eleven o’clock. 

“ Please, will it quite ruin father?” asked Dolores, who 
had njt outgrown childish confusion about large sums of 
money, 

“Not^ exactly, my dear. It was more than he had in 
the bank, and Uncle Regie thinks the bankers will under- 
take part of the loss if ho will let them. It is more in- 
convenient than ruinous.” 

“Ah!” There was a faintness and oppression in the 
sound which made Lady Merrifield think the girl ought 
not to be left, and before long sickness came on. Nurse 
Halfpenny had to be called up, and it was one o’clock be- 
fore there was a quiet, comfortable sleep, which satisfied 
the aunt and nurse that it was safe to repair to their own- 
beds again. 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


ISl 


Tlie dreary, undefined self-reproach and vague alarms, 
intensified by the sullen, reserved temper, and culminating 
in such a shock, alienating the only persons she cared for,, 
and filling her with terror for the future, could not but 
have a physical effect, and Dolores was found on the mor- 
row with a bad headache, and altogether in a state to be 
kept in bed, with a fire in her room. 

Gillian and Mysie were much impressed by the intelli- 
gence of their cousin’s illness when they came to their 
mother’s room on the way to breakfast, and Mysie turned 
to her sister, saying, There, Gill, you see, she did care, 
though she didn’t cry like us. Being ill is more than 
crying.” 

“ Well,” said Gillian, “it is a good deal more than 
such things as you and Val cry for, Mysie,” 

“ It WHS a trial such as you don’t understand, my dears,” 
sain Lady Merrifield. “I don’t, of course, excuse much 
that she did, but she bad been used to see her mother 
make every exertion to help the man.” 

“'Lhat does mak.e a difference,” said Gillian, “ but she 
shouldn’t have taken her father’s money. And wasn’t it 
dreadful of Constance to smuggle her letters? I’m quite 
glad Constance gets part of the punishment.” 

“Certainly, that might be just, Gillian, but unfortu- 
nately the loss falls infinitely more heavily upon Miss 
Hacket, who can not afford the loss at all,” 

“ Oh dear!” cried Mysie. 

“ I’m very sorry,” said Gillian. 

“And, my dear girls, in all honor and honesty, we 
must make it up to her.” 

“ Can’t we save it out of our allowance?” said Mysie. 

“Sixpence a month from you, a shilling perhaps" from 
Gill, how long would that take? No, my dear girls, I am 
going to put yon to a heavy trial.” 

“Oh, mamma, don’t!” cried Gillian, seeing what she 
was driving at. “Don’t give up the Butterfly’s Ball.” 

“Oh, don’t!” implored Mysie, tears starting in her 
eyes. “ We never saw a costume ball, and Fly wishes 
it so.” 

“And I thought you had promised,” said Gillian. 

“Cousin liothervvood assumes that I did; but I did not 
really acce})t. I told him I could not tell, for you know 
your Grandmamma Merrifield talked of coming" here, and 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 1.^3 

1 can not put her off. And now I see that it must be 
giyen up.” 

^‘It need only be calico!” sighed Gillian, sticking pins 
jn and out of tiie pincushion. 

‘‘Fancy dresses even in calico are very expensive. Be- ' 
sides, I could not go to a place like Rotherwood witliont 
at least two new dresses, and it is not right to put papa 
to more expense.” 

“Oh, rnainina! couldn’t you? Yon always do look 
nicer than any one,” said Mysie. 

“My dear, I jim afraid notliing I have at present would ^ 
be suitable for a general’s wife at Lady Rotherwood’s 
party, and we must think of what would be fitting botli 
toward our hostess and papa. Don’t you see?” 

“Ah! your velvet dress!” sighed Gillian. 

“My poor old faithful state apparel,” smiled Lady Mer- 
rifield. “Poor Gill, you did not think again to have to 
mourn for it,- but I don’t know that even that could have 
been sufficiently revivified, though it was my cJieval de 
hataille for so many years.” 

For Lady Merrifield’s black velvet of many years’ useful- 
ness had been put on for \\qx p.p.c, party at Belfast, when 
Gillian, in abetting Jasper in roasting chestnuts over a 
])araffine-lamp, had set horself and the table-cloth on fire, 
and had been extinguished with such damages as singed 
iiair, a scar on Jasper’s hands, and the destruction of her 
inotiier’s “front breadth.” There had been such relief 
and thankfulness at its being no worse that the “state 
apparel” had not been much mourned, especially as the 
remains made a charming pelisse for Primrose, and in the 
retirement of Silverton it had not been missed till the 
present occasion. 

“ Do gowns cost so very much?” said Mysie. 

“ Indeed they do, my poor Mouse. The lamented cost 
more than twenty pounds. I had been thinking whether 
i could afford the requisite garments — not quite so costly — • 
and thought I might get them for about sixteen, with 
contrivance; but you see I feel it my fault that I let Do- 
lores go and lead Constance to get cheated, and I can not 
take the money out of what papa gives for household ex- 
penses and your education, so it must come out of my 
'Dwn personal allowance. Don’t yon see?” 

“Ye — es,” said Gillian, apparently intent on getting a 


184 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


big black- lieaded pin repeatedly into the same bole while 
Mysie was trying with all her might not to cry, 

You are ‘thinking it is very hard that you should suf- 
fer for Dolly’s faults. Perhaps it is, but such things may 
often happen to you, my dears. Christians bear them 
well for love’s sake, you know^” 

“ And it is a little my fault,” said Gillian, thoughtfully; 
‘^forit wasi that let the chestnut fall into the lamp.’^ 
— I don’t think I should have minded so much,” said 
Mysie, almost crying, if w^e had done it our own selves 
— and Fly too — for some very poor woman in the snow.” 

I know that very well, M 3 ’sie, and this is a much 
harder trial, as you don’t get the honor and glory of it; 
and, besides, you will have to take care to say not a w^ord 
of this reason to Fly or Valetta, or any one else.” 

‘‘ Val will be awfully disappointed,” said Gillian. 

Poor Val! But I should not have taken her any way,- 
so that matters the less. I should have taken Jasper, for 
that w'ould have been more convenient than so many girls. 
In fact, I did not mean anybody to have heard of it till 
I- had made up my mind, so that there would have been 
no disappointment; but that naughty Cousin Kotherwood 
could not keep it to himself; and so, my poor maidens, 
you have to bear it with a good grace, and to be treated 
as my confidential friends.” 

Mysie smiled and kissed her mother — Gillian cleared 
somewhat, but observing, “ 1 only wish it wasn’t clothes,” 
tried to dismiss the subject as the gong began to sound, 
but Mysie caught her mother’s dress, and said, Mayn’t 
I tell Fly, for a great secret?” 

"‘No, my dear, certainly not. Fly is a dear little girl, 
but w‘e don’t know how she can keej) secrets, and it would 
never do to let the Rotherwoods know'; papa and Uncle 
William would be exceedingly annoyed. And only think 
of Miss Hacket’s feelings if it came round. It will be 
hard enough to get her to take it now'.” 

"" Perhaps she won’t,” flashed into the minds of both, 
girls; but Mysie said, entreatingly, ""One moment more, 
mamma, please! What can I say to Fly that will be the 
truth?” 

"‘ Say that I find that we can not go, and that I had 
never promised,” said Lady Merrifield. ""I trust vou,. 
my dears.” 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


1S5 


And as she opened tlie door to hurry down to prayers, the 
two sisters felt tlie words very precious and inspiriting. 
Mysie lingered on the step and bravely asked Gillian 
whether her eyes looked like crying — 

Xo, only a little twinkly,” answered the elder sister; 

they will be all right after prayers if you don’t rub 
them.” 

*‘Xo, I won’t, said Mysie; ^‘I’ll try to mean ^ Thy 
will be done.’ For I suppose it is llis will, though it fs 
mamma’s.” 

•‘I’m glad you thought of that, Mysie,” said Gillian; 
‘‘you see it is mamma’s goodness.” And Gillian added 
to herself, “dear little Mysie too. If it had not been for 
her, I believe I should have ‘grizzled’ all prayer-time, 
and now I hope I shall attend instead.” 

iVhen everybody rose up from their knees, Lady lyierri- 
field was glad* to see two fairly cheerful faces. She tried 
zo lessen the responsibility of the confidants, and to get 
the matter settled by telling Lord Eotherwood at once 
and publicly that she had tiiought his kind invitation 
over, and that she found she must not accept it. Perhaps 
she warily took the moment after she had seen the post- 
man coming up the drive, for he had only time to sa}^ 
“ Xow, that’s too bad, Lily, you don’t mean it,” and 
she to answer, “Yes, in sad earnest, I do,” before the 
letters came in, and the attention of the elders was 
taken off by the distribution. 

But Valetta whispered to Gillian, “Not going; oh, 
why?” 

“Xo; never mind, you wouldn’t have gone, anyway — 
hush — ” said Gillian, beginning, it may be, a little sharp- 
ly, but then becoming dismayed as Valetta, perhaps a 
little unhinged by the late pleasures, burst forth into such 
a f.t of crying as made everybody look up, and her mother 
tell her to go away if she could not behave better. Gil- 
lian, understanding a sign of the head as permission, led 
her away, hearing Lord Eotherwood observe: “There, 
you cruel party I” before again becoming absorbed in his 
letter. 

“ Oh, dear!” sighed Fly, turning to Mysie as they rose 
from table, “I am so sorry! It would have been so nice; 
and I thought we were safe, as mamma had written her- 
self!” 


ISC 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


“ All! but my mamma hadn’t accepted,” said Mysie, 

Phyllis seemed to take this as final, and sighed, bui 
Mysie presently exclaimed, I say! can’t we all play al 
Butterfly’s Ball in the hall after lessons?” 

Lessons?” said Fly; ‘‘but it’s holiday-time?” 

“Mamma always makes us do a sort of little lesson, 
even in the holidays, as she says we get naughty. But I 
suppose you need not; and perhaps she will not make us 
now you are here.” 

Colonel Mohun and Lord Bother wood were going to 
Darminster to see what was the state of the investigation 
about Mr. Flinders. They set out directly after break- 
fast, and after the feeding of the pets, where Valcttiv 
joined them, much consoled by the j)rospect of the ex- 
temporary Butterfly’s Ball at home. Lady Phyllis, with 
her usual ready adaptability, repaired with the others to 
the school-room, where the Psalms and Lessons were read, 
and a small amount of French reading in turn from “ Eii 
Quaraiuaine ” followed, with accompaniment of needle- 
work or drawing, after which the children were free. 

Aunt Jane was going home to her Sunday-school and 
the Rockstone festivities. She came down for her final 
talk with her sister just in time to perceive the folding 
up of three five-pound notes. 

“Lily,” she said, with instant perception, “I could 
beat myself for what I told you yesterday.” 

Lady Merrifield laughed. “ The girls are very good 
about it!” she said. “ Nqw you have found it out, see- 
whether that note will make Miss Hacket swallow it.” 

“Can’t be better! But oh, Lily, it is disgusting! 
Could not 1 rig up something fanciful for the children?” 

“ That’s not so much the point, ‘The general’s lady,’ 
as Mrs. Halfpenny would say, is bound not to look like 
‘ane scrub,’ as she would be unwelcome to Victoria, and 
what would be William’s feelings? I could hardly have 
accomplished it even with this, and the catastrophe settles 
the matter.” 

“You could not get into my black satin?” 

“No, I thank you, my dear little Brownie,” said Lady 
Merrifield, elongating herself like a girl measuring 
heights. 

“ Ada has a larger assortment, as well as a taller per- 
son,” continued Miss Jane, “but then they are rathcL 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


187 


' kenspeckle/ and they have all made their first appear- 
ance at Rotlierwood.” 

'‘No, no, thank yon, my dear, Jasper would not like 
the notion — even if there was not more of me than of 
Ada, I have no doubt it is much better for us.’’ 

“Should you have liked it, Lily?” 

“ For once in a way, for Bother wood’s sake, dear old 
fellow. Yes, I should.” 

“ Ah,^ well! You are a bit of a qrande dame yourself. 
Ada enjoys it, too, or I don’t think I ever should go 
there.” 

“ Surely Victoria behaves well to you?” 

“Far be it from me to say she is not exemplary in her 
perfect civility to all her husband’s relations. Ada thinks 
her charming; but oh, Lily, you’ve never found out what 
it is to be a littje person in a great person’s house, and 
to feel one’s self scrupulously made one of the familv, be- 
cause her husband is so much attached to all of them. 
There’s nothing spontaneous about it ! I dare say you 
wmuld get on better, though. You are not a country- 
town old maid; you would have an air of the world aiid 
of distinction even if you went in your old gray poplin.” 

“Well, I thought better of my lady.” 

“ You ought not! She makes great efforts, I am sure, 
and is a pattern of graciousness and cordiality — only that’s 
just what riles one, when one knows one is just as well 
born, and all the rest of it. And then I’m provided with 
the clever men, and the philanthropical folk to talk to. 

I know it’s a great compliment, and they are very nice, 
but I’d ten times rather take my chance among them. 
However, now I’ve made the grapes sour for you, what 
do you think about Dolores? Will you send her to us?” 

“Not immediately, at any rate, dear Jane. It is very 
kind in you to wish to take her off our hands, but 1 do 
want to try her a little longer. I thought slie seemed to 
be softening last night,” 

“She was as hard as ever when I went in to wish her 
good-bye.” 

“I thought she had too much headache for conversation 
when I went in last. T think this is a regular upset from 
vm happiness and reserve.” 

“Alias temper and deceitfulness.” 

Something of both. You know the body often suf- 


188 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

fers when tilings are not thrown out in a wholesome ex- 
plosion at once, but go simmering on; and 1 mean to let 
this poor child alone till she is well.” 

'‘Ah, here comes the pony-carriage. AVell, Lily, send 
lier to me if you repent.” 

The sisters came out to find the Butterfly’s Ball in full 
action. Fly had become a Butterfly by the help of a bat- 
tered pair of fairy wings, stretched on wire, which were 
part of the theatrical stock. " The shy little Dormouse ” 
was creeping about on all fours, under a fnr jacket, witli 
a dilapidated boa for a long tail, but her "blind brother 
the Mole” had escaped from her, and had been trans- 
formed into the Frog, by means of a spotted handkerchiel 
over his back, -and tremendous leap-frog jumps. Prim- 
rose, in another pair of fairy wings, was personating the 
Dragon-fly and all its relations, "grecin, orange, and 
blue.” Valetta, in perfect content with the present, witli 
a queer i)air of ears, and a tail made of an old brush, sat 
up and nibbled as Squirrel. The Grasshopper was ])er- 
forming antics which made him not easily distinguishable 
from the Frog, and the Spider was actually descend- 
ing by a rope from the balusters, while his mother, 
standing somewhat aghast, breathed a hope that "poor 
Harlequin’s” fall was not part of the programme. But 
she did not interfere, having trust in the gymnastics that 
were studied at school by Jasper, who had been beguiled 
into the game by Fly’s fascinations. 

" A far more realistic performance than the Rotherwood 
Butterfly’s Ball is likely to be,” said Aunt Jane, aside, as 
the various guests came up for her departing kiss. " And 
much more entertaining, if they , could only think so- 
"Where’s Gillian?” 

Gillian appeared on the stairs in her own person at the 
moment. Slie said Mrs. Halfpenny had called her, and 
told her that " Miss Dollars” was crying, and that she 
did not think the child ought to be left alone long to fret 
herself, but Saturday morning needments called awav 
nurse herself, so she had ordered in Miss Gillian as her 
substitute. Gillian was reading to her, and had only come 
away to make her farewells to Aunt Jane, 

" That is right, my dear,” said her mother-; " I will 
come and sit with her after luncheon.” 

For the whole youthful family were to turn out to super- 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


189 


intend the replantation of the much-enduring fir, which, it 
'v\as hoped, might survive for many another Christmas. 

However, Lady Merrifield could not keep her promise^ 
for a whole party of visitors arrived just after the chil- 
dren’s dinner was over. 

“And it’s old Mrs. Norgood,” sighed Gillian, looking 
over tlie balusters, “and she always stays for ages!” 

“ One of you young ladies must bide witli j\Iiss Dol- 
lars,” said Nurse Halfpenny, decidedly, “ or we shall have 
her fretting herself ill again.” 

“ Oh, nursie, can’t you?” entreated Gillian. 

“Me, Miss Gillian! How can I, when Miss Primrose 
is going out with the whole clanjamfrie, and all the lad- 
dies, into the wet plantations? Na — one of ye maun 
keep the lassie company. Ye’ve had your turn. Miss 
Gillian, so it should be Miss Mysie. v It winna hurt ye, 
bairn, ye that hae been rampauging ower the house all the 
morning.” 

Mysie knew it was her turn, but she also knew that 
nurse always favored Gillian and snubbed her. She had 
a devouring longing to be with her dear Fly, and a cer- 
tain sense that she was the preferred one. Must another 
pleasure be sacrificed-to'that very naughty Dolores, whose 
misd'emeanors had deprived them of the visit to Rother- 
wood! She looked so dismal that Gillian said good- 
naturedly, “Really, Mysie, I don’t think mamma would 
mind Dolores’ being left a little while; I must go down 
to see about the Tree, because mamma gave me a mes- 
sage to old Webb, but I’ll come back directly. Or per- 
haps Dolly is going to sleep, and does not want any one. 
Go and see.” 

Mysie on this crept quietly into the room, full of hope 
of escape, but Dolores was anything but asleep. ‘VOh, 
are you come, Mysie? Now you’ll go on with the story. 

I tried, but -my eyes ache at the back of them, and I 
can’t.” 

Mysie’s fate was sealed. She sat down by the fire, and 
took up the book, “A Story for the School-room,” one of 
the new ones given from the Tree. It was the middle of 
the story, and she did not care about it at first, especially 
when she heard Fly’s voice, and all the others laughing 
and chattering on the stairs. 

“ Didn’t they care for lier absence?” and her voice 


190 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


grew thick, and her eyes dim; but Dolores must not 
think her cross and unwilling, and she made a great- 
effort, became interested in tlie girls there descril)ed, and 
wondered whether staying with Fly would have turned 
her head, after the exam[)le of the heroine of the bo((k. 

Dolores did not seem to want to talk. In fact, she was 
clinging to the reading, because she could not bear to 
speak or think of the state of affairs, and the story 
seemed, as it were, to drown her misery. She knew that 
her aunt and cousins were far less severe with her than 
she expected, but that could only he because she was ill. 
Had not Uncle Reginald turned against her, and Con- 
stance? It would all come upon her as soon as she camo 
out of her room, and she was rather sorry to believe that 
she should be up and about to-morrow morning. 

Mysie I'ead on till the short, winter day showed the 
first symptoms of (Closing in. Then Lady Merrifield came 
lip. “ You here, little nurse?” she said. Run out now 
and meet the others. Fll stay with Dolly.” Mysie knew 
by the kiss that her mother was pleased with her; but 
Dolores dreaded the talk with her aunt, and made herself 
sleepy. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE INCONSTANCY OF CONSTANCE. 

The two gentlemen who had gone to Darminster 
brought home tidings that the police who had been put 
on the track of Flinders had telegrtiphed that it wiis 
thought that a person answering to his description had 
embarked at Liverpool in an American-bound steamer. 

This idea, though very uncertain, was a relief, at least 
to all except the boys, who thought it a great shame that 
such a rascal should escape, and wanted to know whether 
the Americans could not be made to give him up. Tiiey 
did not at all understand their elders being glad, for tlie 
sake of Maurice Mohun and his dead wdfe, tliat the man 
should not be publicly convicted, and above all that Do- 
lores should not have to bear testimony against him in 
tjourt, and describe her own very doubtful proceedings. 
Besides, there would have been other things to try him 
for, since he had cheated the publishing house which ein- 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE 'SHIELD. 


191 . 


])loyed him of all he had been able to get into his hands. 
There was reason to believe that he had heavy debts, es- 
]>ecially gambling ones, and that he had become desperate 
since he no longer had liis step-sister to fall back upon. 

Looking into his room, among other papers, a half- 
bu rned manuscript was found U])on his grate among some 
exhausted cinders, as if he had been trying to use the un- 
fortunate Waif of the Moorland ” to eke out his last 
tire. Moreover, the proprietor of the “ Politician ’’ told 
Uolonel Mohun of having remonstrated with him on the 
exceeding weakness and jioorness of the “ Oonstantia'' 
poetry, ‘Mvhich,’’ as that indignant personage added, 
‘Svas evidently done merely as a lure to the unfortunate 
young lady.” 

The fifteen })ounds had been accepted in an honorable 
and lady-like manner by the elder sister — but without any 
overpowering expression of gratitude. No doubt it was a 
bitter pill to her, forced down by mecessity, and without 
guessing that it cost the donors anything. 

Dolores’ mind was set at rest as to Flinders’s evasion be- 
fore night, and on the Sunday morning even Nurse Half- 
penny could find out nothing the matter with her, so that 
she was obliged to make her apjiearance as usual. Unde 
Keginald did not kiss her, he only gave a cold nod, and 
said “ Good-morning,” Otherwise all went on as usual, 
and it was pleasant to find that Fly was as entirely used 
as they were to learning Collect and hymn, and co}>ying 
out texts illusti’ating Catechism, and that she was expected 
to have them ready to re})eat them to her mother some time 
in the afternoon. There was something, too, that Mysie 
could not have described, but which she liked, in the 
manner in which, on this morning, Dolores accepted small 
acts of good nature, such as finding a book for her, get- 
ting a new ])en and helping her to the whereabouts of a 
Scriptural reference. It seemed for the first time as if 
she liked to receive a kindness, and her ‘‘ thank you,” 
really had a sound of thanks, instead of being much more 
like “ I wish you would not.” Mysie felt really encour- 
aged to be kind, and wlien, on setting forth to church, 
evervbody was crowding round trying to walk with Fly, 
and Dolores was going along lonely and deserted, Mysie 
resigned her chance of one side of the favorite Phyllis, 
and dropped back to give her company to the solitary one» 


19-3 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


To her surprise and gratification, Dolores took hold of 
her iiand, and listened quite willingly to her chatter about 
the schemes for the fortnight that Fly was to be left vvith 
them. Presently Constance was seen going markedly by 
the other gate of the church-yard, quite out of her usual 
way, and not even looking toward them. 

It was the last day of the old year, and, in the midst of 
the Christmas joy, there were allusions to it in the services 
and hymns. Something in the tune of ‘‘Days and mo- 
ments quickly flying,” touched some chord in Dolores’ 
spirit, and set her off crying. She would have done any- 
thing to stop it, but there was no helping it, great round 
splashes came down, and the more she was afraid of being 
noticed, the worse the choking grew. At last, the very 
worst person — she thought — to take notice, Uncle Regi- 
nald, did so, and, under cover of a general rising, said 
sternly, “ Stop that, or go out.” 

Stop that! Mucli did the colonel know about a girl’s 
tears, or how she would have given anything to check 
them. But here was Aunt Lily edging down to her, tak- 
ing her by the hand, leading her out, she did not know 
how, stopping all who would have come after them with 
help — then pausing a little in the open, frosty air. 

“ Oh, Aunt Lily! I am very sorry!” 

“ Never mind that, my dear. Do you feel poorly?” 

“Oh, no; I’m quite well — only — ” 

“ Only overcome — I don’t wonder — my dear — can you 
walk quietly home with me?” 

“ Yes, please.” 

Nothing was said till they had passed the “ idle corner,” 
where men and half-grown lads smoked their pipes in any- 
thing but Sunday trim; and stared at the lady making 
j bei* exit, till they were through the short street with shop- 
* windows closed, and a strong atmosphere of cooking, and 
had come into the quiet lane leading to the paddock. 
Then Lady Merrifield laid her hand on the girl’s shoulder 
Tery gently, and said, “ It was too much for you, my dear, 
you are not quite strong yet.” 

“ Oil, yes; I’m well. Only I am so very — very miser- 
iible,” and the gust of sobs and tears rushed on her again. 

“ Dear child, I should like to be able to help you!” 

“ You can’t! I’ve done it! And — and they’ll all bo 
against me always — Uncle Regie and all!” 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


193 


Uncle Regie was very much hurt, bufc Fm sure he 
will forgive you wlien he sees how sorry you are. You 
know we all hope this is going to be a fresh start. 1 am 
sure yon were deceived.” 

“ Yes,” said Dolores. I never could have thought he 
— Uncle Alfred — was such a dreadful man.” 

“ I expect that since he lost your mother’s influence and 
help he may have sunk lower tlian when you had seen 
him before. Did your father give you any directions 
about him?” 

No. Father hated to hear of him, and never spoke 
about him if he could help it; and we thought it was all 
Mohun high notions because he wasn’t quite a gentle- 
man.” 

I see. Indeed, my dear, though you have done very 
wrong, I have already felt that there was great excuse for 
you in trying to keep up intercourse with a person wlio 
belonged to your mother. I wish you had told me, but I 
suppose you were afraid.” 

“ Yes,” said Dolores. And I thought you were sure 
to be cross and harsh,” slie muttered. And then, sud- 
denly looking up, Oh, Aunt Lily! everybody is angry 
but you — you and Mysie! Please go on being kind! I 
believe you’ve been good to me always.” 

‘‘ My dear, Fve tried,” said Lady Merrifield, with tears 
in her brown eyes and a choke in lier voice, caressing tiie 
hand that had been put into hers. “I have wished very 
much to make you happy witli us: but the ways of a large 
family must be atrial to a new-comer.” 

Dolores raised her face for a kiss, and said, ^‘1 see it 
now. But I did not like everything always, and I thought 
aunts were sure to be unkind.” 

That was very hard. And why?” 

She was heard to mutter something about aunts in 
books always being cross. 

Ah! my dear! I suppose there are some unkind aunts, 
but I am sure there are a great many more wlio wish with 
all their hearts to make happy homes for their nieces. I 
hope now we may do so. I have more hope than ever I 
had, and so I shall write to your father.” 

And please — please,” cried Dolores, ‘Llon’t let Uncle 
Regie writ^him a very dreadful letter! I know he will.” 

I think you can prevent that best yourself^ by telling 
.17- 


194 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


Uncle Regie how sorry you are. He was specially grieved 
because he thinks you told him two direct falsehoods.’’ 

Oil ! 1 didn’t think they were said Dolores, “ for 

it was true that father dfd not leave anytliing with me 
for Uncle Alfred. And I did not know whether it was 
me whom he saw at Darminster. I did tell you one once, 
Aunt Lily, wiien you asked if I gave Constance a note. 
At least, she gave it to me, and not I to her. Indeed, I 
don’t tell falsehoods. Aunt Lily— I mean I never did at 
home, but Constance said everybody said those sort of 
things at school, and that one was driven to it when one 
was — ” 

Was what, my dear?"’ 

“ Tyrannized over,” Dolores got out. 

‘‘ Ah! Dolly, I am afraid Constance was no real friend. 
It was a great mistake to think her like Miss Racket.” 

“And now she has sent back all my notes, and won’t 
look at me or speak to me,” and Dolores’ tears began 
afresh. 

“ It is very ungenerous of her, but very likely she will 
be very sorry to have done so when her first anger is over, 
and she understands that you were quite as much deceived 
as she was.” 

“But I shall never care for her again. It is not like 
Mysie, who never stopped being kind all the time — nor 
Gillian either. I shall cut her next time!” 

“You should remember that she has something to for- 
give. I don’t want you to be intimate with her, but I 
think it would be better if, instead of quarreling openly, 
you wrote a note to say that you were deceived, and that 
you are very sorry for what you brought on her.” 

“I should not have gone on with it but for her and lier 
stupid poems!” 

“Can you bear to tell me how it all was, my dear? I do 
not half understand it.” 

And on the way home, and in Lady Merritield’s own- 
room, Dolores found it a relief to pour forth an explana- 
tion of the whole affair, beginning with that meeting 
with Mr. Flinders at Exeter, of which no one had heard, 
and going on to her indignation at the inspection of her 
letters; and how Constance had undertaken to conduct 
her correspondence, “ and . that made it seem as if she 
must write to some one”— so she wrote to Uncle Alfred, 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 195 

And then Constance becoming excited at the prospect of 
a literary connection, all the rest followed. It was a great 
relief to have told it all, and Lady Merrifield was glad to 
see that the sense of deceit was what weighed most 
heavily upon her niece, and seemed to have depressed her 
all along. Indeed, the aunt came to the conclusion 
that though Dolores alone might still have been sullen, 
morose and disagreeable, perhaps very reserved, she never 
would have kept up the systematic deceit but for Con- 
stance. The errors, regarded as sin, weighed on Lady 
Merrifield’s mind, but she judged it wiser not to press 
that thought on an unprepared spirit, trusting that just 
as Dolores had wakened to the sense of the human love 
that surrounded her, hitherto disbelieved and disregarded, 
so she might yet awake to the feeling of the Divine love 
and her offense against it. 

The afternoon was tolerably free, for the gentlemen, 
including the elder boys, walked to evensong at a neigh- 
boring church noted for its musical services, and Lady 
Merrifield, as she said, ‘hashed herself up” to go with 
Gillian, carry back the remnant of the unhappy Waif,” 
and ** have it out” with Constance, who would, she feared, 
never otherwise understand tlie measure of her own de- 
linquency, and from whom, perhaps, evidence might be 
extracted which would palliate the poor child’s offense in 
the eyes of Colonel Mohun. Both the Racket sisters 
looked terribly frightened when she appeared, and the 
elder one made an excuse for getting her outside the door 
to beseech her to be careful, dear Constance was so nerv- 
ous and BO dreadfully upset by all she had undergone. 
Lady Merrifield was not the least nervous of the. two, and 
she felt ad'ditionally displeased with Constance for not 
having said one word of commiseration when her sister 
had inquired for Dolores. On returning to the drawing- 
room, Lady Merrifield found the young lady standing by 
the window, playing with the blind, and looking as if she 
wanted to make her escape. 

‘‘ I do not know whether you will be sorry or glad to 
see this,” said Lady Merrifield, producing a half-burned 
roll of paper. ^^It was found in Mr. Flinders’s grate, 
and my brother thought you would be glad that it should 
not get into strange hands.” 

Oh, it was cruel! it was base! What a wicked man 


196 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


be is!” cried Constance, with hot tears, as she beheld the 
mutilated condition of the poor Waif.” 

Yes, it was a most unfortunate thing that you should 
have run into intercourse with such an utterly untrust- 
worthy person.” 

‘‘ I was grossly deceived. Lady Merrifield!” said Con- 
stance, clasping her hands somewhat theatrically. 
sliall never believe in any one again!” 

‘‘ Not without better grounds, 1 hope,” was the ^'^nswer. 

“Your poor little friend is terribly broken down by all 
this.” 

“Don’t call her my friend. Lady Merrifield. She has 
used me shamefully! What business had she to tell me 
lie was her uncle when he was no such thing?” 

“She had been always used to call him so.” 

“ Don’t tell me. Lady Merrifield,” said Constance, 
who, after her first fright, was working herself into a 
passion. “ You don’t know what a little viper you have 
been warming, nor what things she has been continually 
saying of you. She told me — ” 

Lady Merrifield held up her hand with authority. 

“Stay, Constance. Do you think it is generous in 
you to tell me this?” 

“I am sure you ought to know.” 

“Then why did you encourage her?” 

“I pitied her — I believed her — I never thought she 
would have led me into this!” 

“ How did she lead you?” 

“Always talking about her precious, persecuted uncle. 
I believe she was in league with him all the time!” 

“That is nonsense,” said Lady Merrifield, “as you 
must see if you reflect a little. Dolores was too young to 
have been told this man’s real character; she only knew 
that her mother, who had spent her childhood with him, 
treated him as a brother, and did all she could for him. 
Dolores did very wrongly and foolishly in keeping up a 
oonnection with him unknown to me; but I can not help 
feeling there was great excuse for her, and she was quite 
as much deceived as you were.” 

“ Oh, of course, you stand by your own niece, Lady 
Merrifield. If you knew what horrid things she said about 
your pride and unkindness, as she called it, you would 
not think she deserved it.” 


THE TWO SIDES OP THE SHIELD. 


lot 

Nay, that is exactly what does most excuse her in my 
eyes. Her fancying such things of me was what did pre"- 
vent her from confiding in me,’’ 

Constance had believed herself romantic, but the Chris- 
tian chivalry of Lady Merrifield’s nature was something 
quite beyond her. She muttered something about Dolores 
not deserving, which made her visitor really angry, and 
say, “ We had better not talk of deserts. Dolores is a 
mere child — a motherless child, who had been a good deal 
left to herself for many months. I let her come to you 
because she seemed shy and unhappy with us, and I did 
not like to deny her the one pleasure she seemed to care 
for. I knew what an excellent person and thorough lady 
your sister is, and I thought I could perfectly trust her 
with you. I little thought you would have encouraged 
her in concealment, and — I must say— deceit, and thus 
made me fail in the trust her father reposed in me.” 

“I would never have done it,” Constance sobbed, 
^^but for what she said about you. Lady Merrifield!” 

Well, and even if I am such a hard, severe person, 
does that make it honorable or right to help the child I 
trusted to you to carry on this underhand correspond- 
dence?” 

Constance hung her head. Her sister had said the same 
to her, but she still felt herself the most injured 
party, and thought it very hard that she should be so 
severely blamed for what the girls at her school treated 
so lightly. She said, ‘‘ I am very sorry. Lady Merrifield,” 
but it was not exactly the tone of repentance, and it 
ended with: If it had not been for her I should never 
have done it.” 

“I suppose not, for there would have been no tempta- 
tion, I was in hopes that you would have shown some 
kindlier and more generous feeling toward the younger 
girl, who could not have gone so far wrong without your 
assistance, and who feels your treatment of her very bit- 
terly. But to find you incapable of understanding what 
you have done, makes me all the more glad that the 
friendship — if friendship it can be called — is broken off 
between you. Good-bye. I think when you are older 
and wiser, you will be very sorry to recollect the doings 
of the last few months.” 

Lady Merrifield walked away, and found on her return 


198 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

that Dolores had succeeded in writing to her father, and 
was so utterly tired out by the feelings it had cost her 
that she was only fit to lie on the sofa and sleep. 

Gillian was, of course, not seen till she came home from 
evening service. 

‘‘Oh, mamma,” she said, “what did you do to Con- 
stance?” 

“ Why?” 

“Well, I heard you shut the front door. And pres- 
ently after there came such a noise througli the wall tliat 
all the girls pricked up their ears, and Miss Hacket 
jumped up in a fright. If it had been Val, one would 
liave called it a naughty child roaring.” 

“What! did I send her into hysterics?” 

“I suppose, as she is grown up, it must have the fine 
name, but it wasn’t a bit like poor Dolly’s chokiiig. I 
am sure she did it to make her sister come! Well, of 
course. Miss Hacket went away, and I did the best I 
could, but what could one do with all these screeches and 
bello wings breaking out!” 

“ For shame, Gill! 

“I can’t help it, mamma. If you had only seen their 
faces when the uproar came in a fresh gust! How they 
whispered, and some looked awe-struck. I thought I 
had better get rid of them, and come home myself; but 
Miss Hacket met me, and implored me to stay, and I was 
weak-minded enough to do so I wish I hadn’t, for it was 
only to be provoked past bearing. That horrid gir) has 
poisoned even MissHacket’s mind, and she thinks you have 
been hard on her darling. You did not know how nerv- 
ous and timid dear Connie is!” 

“ Well, Gill, I confess she made me very angry, and I 
told her what I thought of her.” 

“And that she didn’t choose to hear!” 

“ Did you see her again?” 

“No, I am thankful to say, I did not. But Miss , 
Hacket would go on all tea-time, explaining and explain- 
ing for me to tell you how dear Connie is so affectionate 
and so easily led, and how Dolores came over her with 
persuasions, and deceived her. I declare I never liked 
Dolly so well before. At any rate, she doesn’t make pro- 
fessions, and not a bit more fuss than she can help. And 
there was Miss Hacket getting brandy cherries and strong 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


199 


coffee, and I don’t know what all, because dear Connie 
was so overcome, and dear Lady Merrifield was quite 
under a mistake, and so deceived by Dolores. I told Miss 
Ilacket you were never under a mistake nor deceived.” 

“ You didn’t, Gillian!” 

‘‘l^es, 1 did, and the stupid woman only wanted to kiss 
me (but I wouldn’t let her) and said I was very right to 
stand up for my dear mamma. As if that liad anything 
to do with it! What are you laughing at, mamma? Wliy, 
Uncle Regie is laughing, and Cousin Rotherwood! What 
is it?” 

“ At the two partisans who never stand up for their own 
families,” said Uncle Regie. 

“ But it’s true!” cried Gillian. 

What! that 1 am never mistaken nor deceived?” said 
Lady Merrifield. 

Except when you took Miss Constance for a sensible 
woman, eli?” said her brother. 

Tiiat I never did! But I did take her for a moder- 
ately honorable one.” 

Well, that was a mistake,” owned Gillian. And Miss 
Hacket is as bad! There’s no gratitude — ” 

“ Hush !” -broke in her mother; and Gillian stopped 
abashed, while Lady Merrifield continued, ‘^1 won’t have 
jVliss Hacket abused. She is only blinded by sisterly 
affection.” 

‘‘ I don’t think lean go there again,” said Gillian, 

after what she Said about you.” 

‘‘Nonsense!” said her mother. “ Don’t be as bad as 
Constance in trying to make me angry by telling me all 
poor Dolly’s grumblings.” 

“ Follow your mother’s example, Gillian,” said Lord 
Rotherwood, “ and, if possible, never hear, certainly 
never attend to, what any one says of you behind your 
back.” 

“ Is said to have said of you, you should add, Rother- 
wood,” put in the colonel. “It is a degree worse than 
eavesdropping.” 

“ Oh, Regie!” exclaimed his sister. 

“ Well, not perhaps for your own honor and conscience, 
but the key-hole is a more trustworthy medium than the 
reporter.” 

“ That’s a strong way of stating it, but, at any rate. 


200 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

the key-hole has no temper nor imagination, or prejudice 
of its own,’’ said Lady Merrifield. 

‘‘No, and as far as it goes, it enables you to judge of 
the frame in wliich the words, even if correctly reported, 
were spoken,” added Colonel Mohun. 

“ The moral of which is,” said Lord Rotherwood, d roily, 
“ that Gillian is not to take notice of any one’s obser- 
vations upon her unless she has heard them through the 
key- hole.” 

“ And so one would never hear them at all.” 

“Q.E.D.,” said Lord Rotherwood. “And now, Lily, 
do you ever sing the two evening liymns, Ken and Keble, 
now, as the family used to do on Sundays at the Old 
Court, long ere the days of ‘Hymns Ancient and Mod- 
ern ?’ ” 

“Don’t we?” said Lady Merrifield. “ Only all our best 
voices will be singing it at Rawnl Pindee!” 

And, as she struck a note on the piano, all the younger 
people still up, My'feie, Phyllis, Wilfred and Valetta, gath- 
ered round from the outer room to join in their evening 
Sunday delight. Fly put her hand into her father’s and 
whispered, “ You told me about it, daddy.” He began to 
sing, but his voice thickened as he missed the tones once 
associated with it. And Lady Merrifield, too, nearly 
broke down as with all her heart she sung, hopefully, 

“ Now, Lord, the gracious work begin.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE STONE MELTING. 

It was with a strange feeling that Dolores woke on the 
New Year’s morning, that something was very sad and 
strange, and yet that there was a sense of relief. For one 
tiling, that terrible confession to her father was written, 
and was no longer a weight hanging over her. And 
though his answer was still to come, that was months 
away. There was Uncle Regie greatly displeased witli 
her; there was Constance treating her as a traitor; there 
was the mischief done, and yet something hard and heavv 
was gone! Something sweet and precious had come iii 
on her! Surely it wa^ that now she knew and felt that 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


201 


she could trust in Aunt Lilias — yes, and in Mysie. She 
got up, quite looking forward to meeting those gentle, 
brown eyes of her aunt’s, that she seemed never before to 
have looked into, and to feeling the sweet, motherly kiss, 
which had so much more meaning in it now, as almost to 
make up for Uncle Reginald’s estrangement. 

She even anticipated gladly those ten minutes alone 
with her aunt, which she used to dislike so much, hoping 
that the holiday-time would not hinder them. Really 
wishing to please her aunt, she had learned her portion 
perfectly, and Lady Merrifield showed that she appreci- 
ated the effort, though still it was more a lesson than a 
reality. 

‘‘ My dear!” she said, I am afraid this is another blow 
for you — it came this morning.” 

It was the account from Professor Miihlwasser’s German 
publisher, amounting to a few shillings more than six 
pounds. And an announcement that the books were on 
the way. 

“ Oh,” cried Dolores, I thought he was dead! He 
told me so! Uncle Alfred, I mean! And it was only to 
get the money! How could he be so wicked?” 

“ I am afraid that was all he cared for.” 

‘'And what shall I do, Aunt Lily? Will you pay it, 
please, and take all my allowance till it is made up?” 

"I tliink it will be more comfortable for you if I do 
something of that sort, though I don’t think you should 
go entirely without money. You have a pound a quarter. 
I was going to give you yours at once.” 

"Oh, take \i—pray — ” 

" Suppose I give you five shillings, instead of twenty. 
I do not think it well to leave you with nothing for a 
year and a half, and this is nearly what Mysie has.” 

" A shilling a month— very well. I wish I could pay it 
all at once!” 

" No doubt you do, my dear, but this will keep you in 
mind for a long time what a dangerous thing you did in 
giving away nionev yon had no right to dispose of.” 

" Yes,” said Dolores. " Mother earned money for 
him. I know she never took father’s without asking him; 
but I couldn’t earn, and couldn’t ask.” 

Lady Merrifield kissed her, for very joy, to hear no sul- 
lenness in her tone; and then all went to church together 


202 THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 

on the New Year’s-day that was to be the beginning of 
better things. Lord Rotherwood had just time to go 
before meeting the train which was to take him to High 
Court, leaving his Fly too much used to his absences to be 
distressed about them, and, in fact, somewhat crazy about 
a notion which Gillian had started that morning, of get- 
ting up a little play to surprise him when he came back 
for Twelfth Day, as he promised to do. 

Mamma declared that if it was in French, and the words 
were learned every morning before half past eleven, it 
should supersede all other lessons; but such was the 
hatred of the whole boy faction to French, that they de- 
clared that they had rather do rational, sensible lessons 
twice over than learn such rot, and this carried the day. 
The drama proposed was that one in an old number of 

Aunt Judy ’’ where the village mayor is persuaded by 
the drummer to fine the girls for wearing lace caps. The 
French original existed in the house, and Fly started the 
idea that the male performers should speak English and 
the female French; but this was laughed down. 

In the midst Uncl-e Reginald came to the door and 
called, “ Lilias, can you speak to me a minute?’’ 

Lady Merrifield went out into the hall to him. 

‘‘ Here’s a policeman come over, Lily, They have ffot 
the fellow I” 

^‘Flinders?” 

‘‘Yes; arrested him on board a steamer at Bristol.” 

“Oh, I wish they had let it alone!” 

“So do I. They are bringing him back. The Dar- 
minster City bench sits to-day, and they want that un- 
lucky child over there to make her deposition for his 
committal.” 

“Can’t they commit him without her?” 

“Not for the forgery. The bank people are bent on 
prosecuting for that, and we can’t stop them. I suppose 
she can be depended on?” 

“ Reginald, don’t! I told you the deceit was an un- 
natural growth from Constance’s pseudo sentiment.” 

“ Well, get her ready to come with me,” said the 
colonel, with a gesture of doubt; “ we must catch the 12:50. 
The superintendent brought a fly.” 

“ You will frighten her out of her senses. I can’t let 
her go alone with you in this mood.” 


THE TWO SIDES Of THE SHIELD. 


203 


As you please, if you choose to knock yourself up. 
I’ll tell, the superintendent, and walk on to the station. 
You’ve not a moment to lose, so don’t let her stand dawd- 
ling and crying.” 

It was a hard task for Lady Merrifield. She called 
Dolores, whom Mysie was inviting to be one of the vil- 
lage maidens, and bade her put on her things quickly. 
She ordered cold meat and wine into the dining-room, 
called Gillian into her room, and explained while dress- 
ing, and bade her keep the others away. Then, meeting 
Dolores on the stairs, took her into the dining-room and 
made her swallow some cold beef, and drink some sherry, 
before telling her that the magistrate of Darminster 
wanted to ask her some questions. Dolores looked pale 
and fi-ightened, and exclaimed: 

‘‘Oh, buc he has got away!” 

“ My dear, I am grieved to say that he has not.” 

Dolores understood, and submitted more quietly and 
resignedly than her aunt had feared. She was a barrister’s 
daughter, and once or twice her father had taken her and 
her mother part of the way on circuit with him, and she 
had been in court, so that she had known from the first 
that if her uncle were arrested there was no choice but 
that she must speak out. So she only trembled very much 
and said: 

“ Aunt Lily, are you going with me?” 

‘^Indeed I am, my poor child. Uncle Regie is gone on.” 

Uo more was spoken then, but Dolores put her cold 
hand into her aunt’s muff. 

Gillian kept all the flock prisoned in the school-room. 
Wilfred, Val, and Fergus rushed to the window, and 
were greatly disappointed not to see a policeman on the 
box, “ taking Dolores to be tried ” — ns Fergus declared, 
and Wilfred insisted, just because Gillian and Mysie con- 
tradicted it with all their might. He continued to repeat 
it with variations and exaggerations until Jasper heard 
him, and declared that he should have a thorough good 
licking if he said so again, administering a cuff by way of 
earnest. Wilfred howled, and was ordered not to be such 
an ape, and Fly looked on in wonder at the domestic dis- 
cipline. 

The superintendent had, in fact, walked on with Uncle 
Reginald, and Dolores saw nothing of him, but was put 


204 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

into an empty first-class carriage, into which her aunt fol- 
lowed her, but her uncle, observing, ‘^You know how to 
manage her, Lily,” betook himself to a smoking-carriage, 
and left them to themselves. 

Dolores was never a very talking girl, and the habit of 
silence had grown upon her. She leaned against her aunt 
and she put her arm round her, and did not attempt to 
saf anything till she asked: 

Will he be there?” 

don’t know; I am afraid he will. It is very sad for 
you, my poor Dolly; but we must recollect that, after all, 
it may be much better for him to be stopped now than to 
go on and get worse and worse in some strange country,” 

Dolores did not ask what she was to do; she knew 
enough already about trials to understand that she was 
only to answer questions, and she presently said: 

^‘This can’t be his trial. There are no assizes now.” 

‘‘ No, this is only for the committal. It will very soon 
be over, if you will only answer quietly and steadily. If 
you do so, I think Uncle Regie will be pleased, and tell 
your father. I am sure I shall!” 

Dolores pressed up closer and laid her cheek against the 
soft sealskin. In the midst of her trouble there was a 
strange wonder in her. Could this be really the aunt 
whom she had thought so cruel, unjust, and tyrannical, 
and from whom she had so carefully hidden her feelings? 
Nobody got into the carriage, and just before reaching 
Darminster, Lady Merrifield made a great effort over her 
own shyness, and said: 

Now, Dolly, we will pray a little prayer that you may 
be a faithful witness, and that God may turn it all to good 
for your poor uncle.” 

Dolores was very much surprised, and did not know 
whether she liked it or not, but she saw her aunt’s closed 
eyes and uplifted hands, and she tried to follow the ex- 
ample. 

The train stopped, and her uncle came to the door, look- 
ing inquiringly at her. 

She will be good and brave,” said her aunt; and 
quickly passing across the platform, Dolores found her- 
self beside her aunt, with her uncle opposite in another 

Things had been nrranged for them considerately, and 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


205 


after they came to the Guild lull 1, where the city magis- 
trates were sitting, Colonel Moluin went at once into 
court; the others were taken to a little room, and waited 
there a few minutes before Colonel Mohun came to call 
for his niece. It was a long room, with a rail at one end, 
and Dolores knew, with a strange thrill which made her 
shudder, that Mr. Flinders was there, but she could not 
bear to look at him, and only squeezed hard at the hand 
of her aunt, who asked, in a somewhat shaky voice, if she 
might come with her niece. 

“ Certainly, certainly. Lady Merrifield,” said one of the 
magistrates, and chairs were set both for her and Colonel 
Mohun. 

You are Miss Mohun, I think — may I ask your Chris- 
tian name in full?” And then she had to spell it, and 
likewise tell her exact age, after which slie was put on 
oath — as she knew enough of trials to expect. 

‘‘Are you residing with Lady Merrifield?” 

“Yes.” 

“ But your father is living?” 

“ Yes, but he is in the Fiji Islands.” 

“ Will you favor us with his exact name?” 

“ Maurice Devereux Mohun.” 

“ When did he leave England?” 

“ The fifth of last September.” 

“Did he leave any money with you?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ In what form?” 

“ A check on W ’s Bank.” 

“ To bearer or order?” 

“ To order.” 

“ What was the date?” 

“ I think it was the 31st of August, but I am not sure.” 

“ For how much?” 

“For seven pounds.” 

“When did you part with it?” 

“ On the Friday before Christmas-day.” 

“ Did you do anything to it first?” 

“ I wrote my name on the back.” 

“What did you do with it.” 

“ I sent it to” — her voice became a little hoarse, but 
she brought out the words — “ to Mr. Flinders.” 

“Is this the same?” 


206 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


Yes— only some one has put " ty ' to the ‘ seven ’ in 
writing, and 0 to the figure 7.” 

‘‘ Can yon swear to the rest as your father’s writing 
and your own?” 

The evidence of the banker’s clerk as to the cashing of 
the check had been already taken, and the magistrate 
said, “ Thank yon. Miss Mohun, I think the case is com- 
plete, and we need not trouble you any more.” 

But the prisoner’s voice made Dolores start and shud- 
der again, as he said: 

“ I beg your pardon, sir, but you have not asked the 
young lady ” — there was a sort of sneer in his voice — 

how she sent this draft. 

Did not yon send it direct by the post?” demanded 
the niMgistrate. 

No; I gave it to — ” Again she paused, and the 
words Gave it — ?” were authoritatively repeated, so that 
she had no clioice. 

I gave it to Miss Constance Hacket to send.” 

^^Yon will observe, sir,” said Flinders, in a somewhat 
insolent tone, that the evidence whicli the witness has 
been so ready to adduce is incomplete. There is another 
link between her hands and mine.” 

“You may reserve that point for your defense on your 
trial,” rejoined the magistrate. “There is quite sufficient 
evidence for 5 ^our committal.” 

There was already a movement to let Dolores be taken 
away by her uncle and aunt, so as to spare her from any 
reproach or impertinence that Flinders might launch at 
her. She was like some one moving in a dream, glad 
that her aunt should hold her hand as if she were a little 
child, saying, as they came out into the street, “Very 
clearly and sleadily done, Dolly! Wasn’t it. Uncle Begie?” 

“Yes,” he said, absently. “ We must look out, or we 
sha’n’t catch the 4.30 train.” 

He almost threw them into a cab, and made the driver 
go his quickest, so that, after all, they had full ten min- 
utes to spare. It made Dolores sick at heart to go near 
the waiting- and refreshment- rooms where she and Con- 
stance had spent all that time with Flinders; but she 
could not bear to say so before her uncle, and he was bent 
on getting some food for Lady Merrifield. 

“ Not soup, Kegie; there might not be time to swallow 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 207 

it. A glass of milk for us each, please; we can drink 
that at once, and anything solid that we can take with 
us. I am sure your mouth must be dry, my dear.” 

Very dry it was, and Dolores gladly swallowed the milk, 
and found, when seated in the train, that she was really 
hungry enough to eat her full share of the sandwiches and 
buns which' the colonel had brought in with him; and 
then she sat resting against her aunt, closed her eyes, and 
half dozed in the rattle of the train, not moving in the 
pause at the stations, but quite conscious that Colonel 
Mohun said, ‘^Not a spark of feeling for anybody, not 
even for that man! As hard as a stone!” 

“ For shame. Regie!” said her aunt. How angry 
you would have been if she had made a scene.” 

I should have liked her better.” 

‘‘No, you wouldn’t, when you come to understand. 
There’s stuff in her, and depth too.” 

“ Ay, she’s deep enough.” 

“Poor child!” said Lady Merrifield, tenderly. And 
then the train went on, and the noise drowned the voices, 
so that Dolores only partly heard, “ You will see how she 
will rise,” and the answer, “ You may be right; I hope so. 
But I can’t get over deliberate deceit.” 

He settled himself in his corner, and Lady Merrifield 
durst not move nor raise her voice lest she should break 
what seemed such deep slumber, but which really was 
half torpor, half a dull dismay, holding fast eyes, lips, 
and limbs, and which really became sleep, so that Dolores 
did not hear the next bit of conversation during the en- 
suing halt. 

“ 1 say, Lily, I did not like the fellow’s last question. 
He means to give trouble about it.” 

“ I was sorry the other name was brought in, but it 
must have come sooner or later.” 

“ That’s true; but if she can’t swear to the figures on 
the draft, ten to one that the fellow will get off.” 

“ You don’t doubt — ” 

“No, no; but there’s the chance for the defense, and 
he was sharp enough to see it.” 

“There is nothing to be said or done about it, of 
course.” 

“ Of course not. There’s nothing for it but to let it 
alone.” 


208 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

They went on again, and when the train reached Sil- 
verton, Dolly was dreaming that her father had come, 
and that he said Uncle Alfred should be hanged unless 
she found the money for Professor Muhlwasser. She even 
looked about for him, and said, Where’s father?” when 
she was wakened to get out. 

Gillian came up to her mother’s room to hear what had 
happened, and to give an account of the day, which had 
gone off prosperously by Harry’s help. He had kept ex- 
cellent order at dinner, and there’s something about 
Fly which makes even Wilfred be mannerly before her.” 
And then they had gone out and had made Fly free of 
the Thorn Fortress. 

^‘My dear, that must have been terribly damp and cold 
at this time of year.” 

“ I thought of that, mamma, and so we didn’t sit 
down, and made it a guerrilla, war; only Fergus couldn’t 
understand the difference between guerrillas and gorillas, 
and would thump upon himself and roar when they were 
in ambush.” 

*‘Eather awkward for the ambush!” 

“Yes, Wilfred said he was a traitor, and tied him to a 
tree, and then Fly found him crying, and would have let 
him out; but she couldn’t get the knots undone; and 
what do you think? She made Wilfred cut the string 
himself with his own knife! I never knew such a girl for 
malting every one do as she pleases. Then, when it got 
dark, we came in, and had a sort of a kind of a rehearsal, 
only that nobody knew any of the parts, or what each 
was to be.” 

“ A sort of a kind, indeed, it must have been!” 

“*But we think the play will be lovely! You can’t 
think how nice Fly was. You know we settled for her to 
be Annette, the dear, funny, naughty girl, but as soon as 
she saw that Val wanted the i)art, she said she didn’t care, 
and gave it up directly, and I don’t think we ought to let 
her, and Hal thinks so too; and all tlie boys are very an- 
gry, and say Val will make a horrid mess of it. Tlien 
Mysie wanted to give up the good girl to Fly, and only be 
one of the chorus, but Fly says she had rather be one of 
the chorus ones herself than that. So we settled that you 
should fix the parts, and we would abide by your choice.” 

“ J hope there was no quarreling.” 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 


209 


N — no; only a little fallin^^ upon Vul by the boys^ 
and Fly put a stop to that. Oh, mamma, if it were only 
possible to turn Dolly into Fly! I can’t help saying it, we 
seemed to get on so much better just because we hadn’t 
poor Dolly to make a deadweight, and tempt the boys to 
be tiresome; while Fly made everything go off well. I 
can’t describe it, she didn’t in the least mean to keep 
order or interfere, but somehow squabbles seem to die 
away before her, and nobody wants to be troublesome.” 

Dear little thing! It is a very sweet disposition. 
But, Gill, I do believe that we shall see pooT Dolly take a 
turn now!” 

“ Well! having quarreled with that Constance is in her 
favor!” 

Try and think kindly of her trouble. Gill, and then 
it will be easier to he kind to her.” 

Gillian sighed. Falsehood and determined opposition 
to her mother were the greatest possible crimes in her 
eyes; and at her age it was not easy to separate the sin 
from the sinner. 

New Year’s night was always held to be one of especial 
merriment, but Lady Merrifield was so much tired out by 
her expedition that she hardly felt equal to presiding over 
any sports, and proposed that instead the young folk 
should dance. Gillian and Hal took turns to play for 
them, and Uncle Keginald and Fly were in equal request 
as partners. It was Mysie who came to draw Dolores out 
of her corner, and begged her to be her partner — [f 
you wouldn’t very much rather not,” she said, in a plead^' 
ing, wistful voice. 

"Dolores would very much rathel’ not;” but she saw 
that Mysie would be left out altogether if she did not 
consent, as Hal was playing and Uncle Eegie was dancing 
with Primrose. She thought of resolutions to turn over 
a new leaf, and not to refuse everything, so she said, 
‘‘Yes, this once,” and it was wonderful how much fresh- 
ened she felt by the gay motion, and perhaps by Mysie’s 
merry, good-natured eyes and caressing hand. After that 
she had another turn with Gillian and one with Hal, and 
even one with Fergus, because, as he politely informed 
her, no one else would have him for a quadrille. But, 
just as this was in progress, and she could not help laugh- 
ing at his ridiculous mistakes and contempt of rules, she 


210 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

met Uncle Reginald’s eye fixed on her in wonder. “ He 
thinks I don’t care,” thought she to herself. All her 
pleasure was gone, and she moved so dejectedly, that her 
aunt, watching from the sofa, called her and told her she 
was overtired, and sent her to bed. 

Dolores was tired, but not in the way which made it 
harder instead of easier to sleep, or, rather, she slept just 
enough to relax her full consciousness and hold over her- 
self, and bring on her a misery of terror and loneliness, 
and feeling of being forsaken by the whole world. And 
when she woke' fully enough to understand the reality, it 
was no better; she felt, then, the position she had put 
herself into, and almost saw, in the dark, Flinders’s 
malicious vindictive glance, Constance’s anger. Uncle 
Regie’s cold, severe look, and worse than all, her father 
reading her letter. She fell again into an agony of sob- 
bing, not without a little hope that Aunt Lily would be 
again brought to her side. At last the door was softly 
pushed open in the dark, but it was not Aunt Lily, it was 
Mysie’s little bare feet that pattered up to her bed, her 
arms that embraced, her cheek that was squeezed against 
the tearful one — “Oh, Dolly, Dolly! please don’t cry so 
sadly!” 

“ Oh! it is so dreadful, Mysie!” 

“ Are you ill — like the other night?” 

“ No — but — Mysie — I can’t bear it!” 

“I don’t want to call mamma,” said Mysie, thought- 
fully, “for she is so much tired, and Uncle Regie and 
Grill said she would be quite knocked up, and got her to 
come up to bed when we went. Dolly, would it be better 
if I got into your bed and cuddled you up?” 

“ Oh, yes! oh, yes! please do, there’s a dear good Mysie.” 

There was not much room, but that mattered the less, 
and the hugging of the warm arms seemed to heal the 
terrible sense of being unloved and forsaken, the presence 
to drive away the visions of angry faces that had haunted 
her; but there was the longing for fellow-feeling on her, 
and she said, “ That’s nice! Oh, Mysie! you can’t think 
what it is like! Uncle Regie said I didif’t care, and he 
could never forgive deliberate deceit — and I was so fond of 
Uncle Regie!” 

“Oh! but he will, if you never tell a story again,” 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 5ill 

said Mysie — and, as she felt a gesture implying de- 
spair — “ Yes, they do; I told a story once.” 

“ You, Mysie! I thought you never did?’’ 

Yes, once, when we were crossing to Ireland, and 
nurse wouldn’t let Wilfred tie our handkerchiefs together 
and fish over the side; and he was very angry, and threw 
her parasol into the sea when she wasn’t looking: and I 
knew she would be so cross, that when she asked me if I 
knew what was become of it, I said ^ No,’ and thought 
1 didn’t, really. But then it came over me, again and 
again, that I had told a story, and oh! I was so miserable 
wlienever I thought of it — at church and saying my 
prayers, you know; and mamma was poorly, and couldn’t 
come to us at night for ever so long; but at last I could 
bear it no longer. I heard her say, Mysie is always 
truthful,’ and then I did get it out, and told her. And, 
oh! she and papa were so kind, and they did quite and 
entirely forgive me!” 

‘‘Yes, you told of your own accord; and they were 
your own — not Uncle Regie. Ah! Mysie, everybody hates 
me. I saw them all looking at me.” 

“No, no! Don’t say such things, Dolly. None of us 
do anything so shocking.” 

“Yes, Jasper does, and Wilfred and Val!” 

“No! no! no! they don’t hate; only they are tiresome 
sometimes; but if you wouldn’t be cross, they would be 
nice directly — at least Japs and Val. And ’tisn’t hating 
with Willie; only he thinks teasing is fun.” 

“ And, you and Gillian; you can only just bear me.” 

“No! no! no!” with a great hug, “ that’s not true.” 

“You like Fly ever so much better!” 

“ She is so dear, and so funny,” said Mysie, the truthful, 
“but somehow, Dolly dear, do you know, I tliink if you 
and I got to love one another like real friends, it w'ould 
be nicer still than even Fly— because you are here like 
one of us, you know; and besides, it would be more, be- 
cause you "are harder to get at. Will you be my own 
friend, Dolly?” 

“Oh, Mysie, I must!” and there was a fresh kissing 
and hugging. 

“And there’s mamma,” added Mysie. 

“Yes, I know Aunt Lily does now; but, oli! if you 
had seen Uncle Alfred’s face, and heard Uncle Regie,” 


212 THE TAVO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

and Dolly began to sob again as they returned on her. ‘‘ I 
see tlieni whenever 1 shut my eyes.” 

'‘Darling/* whispered Mysie, "when I feel bad at 
niglit, I always kneel up in bed and say my prayers again!” 

" Do you ever feel bad?” 

" Oh yes, when Fm frightened, or if Fve been naughty, 
and haven’t told mamma. Shall we do it Dolly?” 

"1 don’t know what that has to do with it, but we’ll 
try.” 

" Mamma told me something to say out of.” 

The two little girls rose up, with clasped hands in their 
bed, and Mysie whispered very low, but so that her com- 
panion heard, and said with her a few childish words of 
confession, pleading and entreating for strength, and then 
the Lord’s Prayer, and the sweet old verse: 

“Hay my body down to sleep, 

I give my soul to Christ to keep, 

Wake I at morn, or wake I never, 

I give my soul to Christ forever.” 

"Ah! but I am afraid of that. I don’t like it,” said 
Dolores, as they lay down again. 

" It won’t make one never wake,” returned Mysie; 
" and I do like to give my soul to Christ. It seems so to 
rest one, and make one not afraid.” 

" I don’t know,” said Dolores; " and why did you say 
the Lord’s Prayer? That hasn’t anything to do with it!” 

"Oh, Dolly, when He is our Father near, though our 
own dear fathers are far away, and there’s deliver us from 
evil — all that hurts us, you know — and forgive us. It’s 
all there.” 

“I never thought that,” said Dolores. "I think you 
have some different prayers from mine. Old nurse taught 
me long ago. I wisli you would always say yours with 
me. You make them nicer.” 

Mysie answered with a hug, and murmured "if lean,” 
and offered to say the 121st Psalm, her other step to com- 
fort, and, as she said it, she resolved in her mind whether 
she could grant Dolores’ request; for she was not sure 
whether she should be allowed to leave her room before 
saying her own, and she knew enough of Dolores by this 
time to be aware that to say she would ask mamma’s leave 
would put an end to all. " I know,” was her final de- 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


213 


cision; “ Fll say my own first, and then come to Dolly’s 
room.” 

But by that time Dolores was asleep, even if Mysie had 
not been too sleepy to speak. 

She meant to have rushed to the room she shared with 
Valetta before it was time to get up, but Lois found the 
black head and the brown together on Dolores’ pillow, 
wrapped in slumber; and though Mysie flew home as soon 
as she was well awake, Mrs. Halfpenny descended on her 
while she was yet in her bath, and inflicted a sharp scold- 
ing for the malpractice of getting into her cousin’s bed. 

‘‘But Dolly was so miserable, nurse, and mamma was 
too tired to call.” 

“ Then you should have called me, Miss Mysie, and I’d 
have sorted her well! You kenned well ’tis a thing 
not to be done, and at your age, ye should have minded 
your duties better.” 

And nurse even intercepted Mysie on her way to Do- 
lores’ room, and declared she would have no messing and 
gossiping in one another’s rooms. Miss Mysie was get- 
ting spoiled among strangers. 

Mysie went down with a strong sense of having been 
disobedient, as well as of grief for Dolores’ disappoiirt- 
ment. Happily mamma was late that morning, and no- 
body was in her room but Primrose. Poor Mysie had 
soon, with tears in her eyes, confessed her transgression. 
Her mother’s tears, to her great surprise, were on her 
cheek together with a kiss. “Dear child, I am not dis- 
pleased. Indeed, I am not; I will tell nurse. It must 
not be a habit, but this was an exception, and I am only 
thankful you could comfort her.” 

“ And, mamma, may I go now to her? She said I could 
help her to say her prayers, and I think she only has 
little baby ones that her nurse taught her, and she doesn’t 
see into the Lord’s Prayer.” 

“ My dear, my dear, if you can help her to pray, you 
will do the thing most sure to be a blessing to her of all.” 

And when Mysie was gone. Lady Merrifield knelt down 
afresh in thankfulness. 


214 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

MYSIE AHJ) DOLORES. 

Things were going on more quietly at Silverton. That 
is to say, there were no outward agitations, for the house 
was anything but quiet. Lady Merrifield had no great 
love for children’s parties, where, as she said, they sat up 
too late, to eat and drink what was not good for them, and 
to get presents that they did not care about; and, though 
at Dublin it had been necessary on her husband’s account 
to give and take such civilities, she had kept out of the 
excliange at Silverton. But, on the other hand, there 
were festivals, and she promoted a full amount of special 
treats at home among themselves, or with only an outsider 
or two, and she endured any amount of noise, provided it 
was not quarrelsome, over boisterous, or at unfit times. 

There was the school tea aiid magic-lantern, when Mr. 
Pollock acted as exhibitor and Harry as spokesman, and 
warked them up gradually from grave and beautiful 
scenes, like the cedars of Lebanon, the Parthenon, and 
Colosseum, with full explanations, through dissolving 
views oE cottage and bridge by day and night, summer and 
winter, of life-boat rescue, and the siege of Sevastopol, 
with shells flying, on to Jack and the Beanstalk and the 
New Tale of a Tub, the sea-serpent, and the nose-grind- 
ing! Lady Phyllis’s ecstasy was surpassing, more espe- 
cially as she found her beloved little maid-of-all-work, and 
was introduced to all that small person’s younger brothers 
and sisters. 

Here they met Miss Hacket, who was in charge of a 
class. She comported herself just as usual, and Gillian’s 
dignity and displeasure gave way before her homely cor- 
diality. Constance had not come, as indeed nothing but 
childhood, sympathy with responsibility for childhood, 
could make the darkness, stuffiness, and noise of the ex- 
hibition tolerable. Even Lady Merrifield trusted her 
flock to its two elders, and enjoyed a tete-a-tUe evening 
with her brother, who profited by it to advise her strongly 
to send Dolores to their sister Jane before harm was done 
to her own children. 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


215 


I would not see that little Mysie of yours spoiled for 
all the world,” said ho. 

‘‘ Nor I; but I don’t think it likely to happen.” 

‘‘Do you know that they are always after each other, 
chattering in their bedrooms at night? I hear them 
through the floor.” 

“Only one night— Mysie told me all about it— I 
believe Mysie will do more for that poor child than any 
of us.” 

Uncle Regie shrugged his shoulders a little. 

“ Yes, I know I was wrong before, wlien I wouldn’t 
take Jane’s warning; but that was not about one of my 
own, and, besides, poor Dolores is very much altered.” 

“ I’ll tell you what, Lily, when any one, I don’t care 
who, man, or v/ornan, or child, once is given, up to that 
sort of humbug and deceit, carrying it on as that girl 
Dolores has done, I would never trust again an inch be- 
yond what I could see. It eats into the very marrow of 
the bones — everything is acting afterward.” 

“ That would be saying no repentance was possible — 
that Jacob never could become Israel.” 

“ I only say I have never seen it.” 

“Tlien I hope you will, nay, that you do. I believe 
your displeasure is the climax of all Dolly’s troubles.” 

But Colonel Reginald Mohun could not forgive the 
having been so entirely deceived wliere he had so fully 
trusted; and there was no shaking his opinion that 
Dolores was essentially deceitful and devoid of feeling, 
and that the few demonstrations of emotion that were 
brought before liim were only put on to excite the com- 
])assion of her weakly, good-natured aunt, so he only an- 
swered, “ You always were a soft one, Lily.” 

To which she only answered, “We shall see,” knowing 
that in his present state of mind ho would only set down 
the hopeful tokens tliat she perceived either to hypocrisy 
on the girl’s side, or weakness on hers. 

Dolores had indeed gone with the others rather because 
she could not bear remaining to see her uncle’s altered 
looks than beoaiLse she expected much pleasure. And she 
had the satisfaction of sitting by Mysie, and holding her 
hand, which had become a very great comfort in her for- 
lorn state — so great that she forbore to hurt her cousin’s 
feelings by discoursing of the dissolving views she had 


216 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


seen at a London party. Also she exacted a promise that 
this station should always be hers. 

Mjsie, on her side, was in some of the difficulties of a 
popular character, for Fly felt herself deserted, and at- 
tacked her on the first opportunity. 

“ What does make you always go after Dolly instead of 
me, Mysie? Do you like her so much better?’’ 

“ Oh, no! but you have them all, and she has nobody.” 

Well, but she has been so horribly naughty, hasn’t 
she?” 

‘^1 don’t think she meant it.” 

‘"One never does. At least, I’m sure I don’t — and 
mamma always says it is nonsense to say that.” 

“ I’m not sure whether it is always,” said Mysie, 
thoughtfully, “for sometimes one does worse than one 
knows. Once I made a mouse- trap of a beautiful large 
sheet of bluey paper, and it turned out to be an order 
come down to papa. Mamma and Alethea gummed it up 
as well as ever they could again, but all the officers had to 
know what had happened to it.” 

“And you were punished?” 

“I was not allowed to go into papa’s room without one 
of the elder ones till after my next birthday, but that 
wasn’t so bad as papa’s being so vexed, and everybody 
knowing it; and Major Denny would talk about mice and 
mouse-traps every time he saw me till I quite hated my 
name. ” 

“ And I’m sure you didn’t mean to cut up an impor- 
tant paper.” 

“No; but I did do a little wrong, for we had no leave 
to take anything not quite in the waste-basket, and this 
had been blown off the table, and was on the floor outside. 
They didn’t punish me so much I think because of that. 
Papa said it was partly his own fault for not securing it 
when he was called off. You see little wrongs that one 
knows turn out great wrongs that one would never think 
of, and that is so very dreadful, and makes me so very 
sorry for Dolores.” 

“I didn’t think you would like a cross, naughty girl 
like that more than your own Fly.” 

“ No, no. Fly, don’t say that. I don’t really like her 
half so well, you know, only if you would help me to be 
^.kind to her.” 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. -217 

I am sure my mother wouldn’t wish me to have any- 
thing to do with her. I don’t think she would have let 
me come here if she had known wliat sort of girl she is.” 

But your papa knew when he left you — ” 

^‘Oh, papa! yes; but he can never see anything amiss 
in a Mohun; I heard her say so. And he wants me to be 
friends with you; dear, darling friends, like him and 
your Uncle Claude, Mysie, so you must be, and not be 
always that Dolores.” 

“ I want to be friends with both. One can have two 
friends.” 

'‘No! no! no! not two friends. And you are my 
best friend, Mysie, ever so much better than Alberta Fitz- 
hugh, if only you’ll come always to me this little time 
when I’m here, and sit by me instead of that Dolly.” 

" I do love you very much. Fly.” 

"And you’ll sit by me at the penny reading to- 
night.” 

"I promised Dolly. But she may sit on the other 
side.” 

"No,” said Phyllis, with jealous perverseness. "1 
don’t care if that Dolly is to be on the other side, you’ll 
talk to nobody but her! Now, Mysie, I had been writing 
to ask daddy to let you come borne with me, you yourself, 
to the Butterfly’s Ball, but if you won’t sit by me, you 
may stay with your dear Dolores.” 

" Oh, Fly! When you know I promised, and there is 
the other side.” 

But Fly had been courted enough by all the cousin- 
hood to have become exacting and displeased at having 
any rival to the honor of her hand — so she pouted and 
said, "I don’t care about it, if you have her, I shall sit 
between Val and Jasper.” 

One must bo thirteen, with a dash of the sentiment of 
a budding friendship, to enter into all that "sitting by ” 
involves; and in Mysie’s case, here was her compassionate 
promise standing not only between her and the avowed 
preference of one so charming as Fly, but possibly de- 
priving her of the chances of the wonders of the Butter- 
fly’s Ball. No wonder that disconsolate tears came into 
her eyes as she uttered another pleading, "Oh, Fly, how 
can you?” 


218 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


You must choose,” said the offended young lady; 

you can’t have us both.” 

To which argument she stuck, being offended as well as 
scandalized at being set aside for such a culprit as Dolores, 
whose misdemeanors and discourtesy were equally shock- 
ing to her imagination. 

Mysie could confide her troubles to no one, for she was 
aware that caring about sitting together was treated by 
the elders as egregious folly; but a promise was a prom- 
ise with her, and she held stanchly to her purpose, 
though between Dolores and Miss Vincent she lost all 
those delightful asides which enhanced tlie charms of the 
<-un using parts of the penny reading and beguiled the 
duller ones— of which there were many, since it was more 
concert than penny reading, people being rather shy of 
committing themselves to reading — Hal, Mr. Pollock and 
tlie school-master being the only volunteers in that line. 

Gillian had, sorely against the grain, to play a duet 
with Constance Hacket. The two young ladies had met 
one another with freezing civility in the class-room, and 
to those who understood matters, the stiffness of their 
necks and shoulders, as they sat at the piano, spoke un- 
utterable things. But there had never been any real lik- 
ing between Constance and the younger Merrifields, and 
the mother did not trouble herself much about this, know- 
ing that the vexation of the elder sister, about whom she 
did care, would pass off with friendly intercourse. 

Fly’s displeasure did not last long, for Mysie had more 
attractions for her than any one else, and she was a good- 
humored creature. There was a joyous Twelfth-Night, 
with home-made cake and home-characters, prepared by 
mamma and Gillian, and followed up by games, in which 
Dolores had a share, promoted by her aunt, who was verv 
anxious to keep her from feeling set a})art from everyone”; 
but this was difficult to manage, as she was so generally 
disliked, that even Gillian was only good-natured to her 
in accordance with her mother’s desire that she should 
not be treated as out of the pale of humanity.” Mysie 
alone sought her out and brought her forward with any 
real earnestness, and good little Mysie had a somewhat 
difficult part to play between kindness to her and Fly’s 
occasional little jealous tiffs and decided disapproval. 
Mysie never thought, however^ about the situation or its 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


219 


difficulties; she simply followed the moment’s call of kind- 
ness to Dolores, and, when it was possible, followed her 
own inclinations, and enjoyed Fly’s lively society. 

And Dolores was certainly softening and improving. A 
word to Mrs. Halfpenny had secured the two girls being 
permitted to say their prayers together in Dolores’ room 
unmolested; and what was a reality to a contemporary 
became less and less to Dolores a mere lesson imposed by 
tlie authority of an elder. That link between religious 
instruction and daily life, which is all-important, yet so 
difficult to find, was being gradually put into Dolores’ 
hands by her little cousin-friend. Lady Merrifield hoped 
and guessed it might be thus, from the questions that 
Mysie asked her at times, and from the quickened at- 
tention Dolores showed to her religious lessons, and her 
less dull and indifferent air at church. 

It could not be said that she was different with the 
others. She was depressed, and wanted spirits for enjoy- 
ment, nor would active romping diversions ever be pleas- 
ant to her. She had not the nature for them, and was 
not young enough to learn to like them. It could not but 
seem foolish to her to race about as a Croat or a savage, 
and she only beheld with wonder Gillian’s genuine delight 
in games not merely entered into for the sake of the little 
ones. But there was a strong devotion growing up in her 
to her aunt and to Mysie, and what they asked of her she 
did — even when oii a wet day her aunt condemned her to 
learn to play battledoor and* shuttlecock of Gillian, who 
was equally to be pitied for the awkwardness of her pupil 
and the banter of her brothers, while Dolly picked up her 
shuttlecock and tossed it off with grim determination, as 
if doin^ penance for this dismal half hour. She managed 
better in the games where ready sharpness of intellect or 
memory was wanted, and she liked these, and would Irave 
liked them still better if Uncle Keginald had not always 
looked astonished if she laughed. 

She did her part, too, in the little play, being one of 
the chorus of the maidens who make a vow to make a 
row.” Lady Merrifield had, according to the general 
request, saved disputes by casting the parts, Gillian being 
the sage old woman wlio brought the damsels to reason. 
Fly, the prime mover of the tumult, and Mysie, her coji- 
Udantey while Val and Dolly made up the mob. A little 


220 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


manipulation of skirts, tennis-aprons, ribbons, and caps 
made very nice peasant costumes. Hal was the self- 
important Bailli, and Jasper the drummer, the part of 
gens-d'armes being all that Wilfred and Fergus could be 
trusted with. 

Lord Rotherwood came back, and his little daughter’s 
ecstasy was goodly to see, as she danced about her daddy, 
almost bursting with the secret of what he was to see after 
dinner, and showing herself so brilliantly well and happy, 
that he congratulated himself upon her mother’s satisfac- 
tion. 

While the elders were at dinner, Gillian, with Miss 
Vincent’s help, finished off the arrangements. There 
were no outsiders, except the vicar and Mr. Pollock, who 
had been asked to dinner, for Lady Merrifield said she 
never liked to make her children an exhibition. 

“You are an old-fashioned Lily,” said her cousin, “and 
happily not concerned with popularity. It is a fine thing 
to be able to consult one’s children’s absolute best.” 

The performance went off beautifully — at least so 
thought both actors and spectators. The dignity of the 
Bailli and the meddling of the drummer were alike de- 
lightful; Fly was charmingly arch and mutinous; Mysie 
very straightforward; and the least successful personation 
Wcis that of Gillian, who had a fit of stage-fright, forgot 
sentences, and whirred her spinning-wheel nervously, all 
the worse for being scolded .by her brothers behind the 
scenes, and assured that she was making a mull of the 
whole affair. And she had been so spirited at the re- 
hearsals, but she was at a self-conscious age, and could 
not forget the four spectators. Very little was required 
of Dolores, but that little she did simply and well, and 
Lord Rotherwood, after watching her all the evening, ob- 
served to Lady Merrifield, “ I should say your difficulties 
were diminishing, are they not? The thunder-cloud 
seems to be a little lightened.” 

“I am so glad you think so, Rotherwood. I feel sure 
that all tliis distress has drawn her nearer to us, only 
Regie won’t believe it.” 

“ Regie is prejudiced.” 

“Is he? I thought him specially fond of Maurice’s 
child, and that this was revulsion of feeling; but what I 
am afraid of is, that he will never believe in her or like 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 221 

her again, whatever she may be, and she is really fond of 
him.” 

“ Yes, Reginald is not overdisposed to believe in any 
woman’s truth — outside his own family and sisters. Poor 
fellow! I can’t say he was well used.” 

What? I suppose he has had his romance like other 
people — his little episode, as my husband calls it,” 

“Yes; and I am afraid we were accountable for it. 
You remember we were at Harthope Castle for the first two 
years after I was married, while Rotherwood was brought 
up to the requirements of the Victorian age. The — th 
was quartered at Harfield, within easy distance, and a 
splendid-looking fellow like Regie was invaluable to Vic- 
toria, whenever she wanted anything to go off well. 
Well, in those days I had a ward, my mother’s great 
niece, Maude Conway. A pretty winsome creature she 
was, and an heiress in a moderate sort of way, and poor 
old Redge, after all his little affairs, and he had had his 
share of them, was evidently in for it at last. Victoria 
thought, as well as myself, it was the best thing for them 
both. He was the sound-hearted, good fellow to keep 
her matters straight, and she had enough for comfort 
without overweighting the balance. So they were en- 
gaged, but unluckily they had to wait till she was of age, 
about eight months off, and they were both ridiculously 
shy, and would not have the thing known, though Victoria 
said it was unwise. I don’t think even Jane suspected it.” 

“No; I don’t think she could have done so.” 

“Well, there was the season, and Victoria was not in 
condition for going out, and Maude was all for staying 
quietly with her; but old Lady Conway came about — a 
regular schemer — a woman I never could abide. She had 
married off her own daughters, and wanted her niece to 
practice on, that was the fact. Victoria says she alw^iys 
knew that she, Maude I mean, was very impressionable 
and impulsive, and so she wanted to have her out of 
harm’s way; but one could not prevent her aunt from 
getting hold of her and taking her out. Then people 
told us of her goings on with that scamp Clanmacklosky 
and that sister of his. Victoria talked to her by the yard, 
but she denied it, and we thought it all gossip. Regie 
came up for a couple of nights, and she was as sweet on 
him as ever, and sent him away thinking it all right; 


222 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


but the end of it was, she fought off going down to 
Eotherwood with us, but went to Brigliton witii Lady 
Conway, and tlie next thing we heard was tliat she wrote 
to throw Reginald over, and she married Clanmacklosky 
a month after she was twenty-one! I don’t think I ever 
saw Victoria so cut up, for we had really liked the giil 
and thought well of her. To this hour 1 believe it was 
all that woman’s doing, and that poor Maude has supped 
sorrow. She has lost all her good looks.” 

“ And Regie has never got over it?” 

‘^Not so as to believe in a woman again.” 

“ He used to be rather a joke for susceptibility, and 
was still a regular boy when we went out to Gibraltar. I 
thought him much graver.” 

“Exactly; since that affair his soul has gone into his 
regiment. It’s a wife to him, and luckily he got his pro- 
motion in time, so as not to be shelved.” 

“I suppose it was really an escape.” 

“I don’t know — she would have done very well in his 
hands. She is the sort of woman to be as you make her, 
and even now is a world too good for Clan. Victoria can 
never be quite cordial with her, but I can’t see the poor 
harassed thing without thinking what a sweet creature she 
once was, and wishing I’d had the sense to look after iier 
better. But what I came here for, Lily, was to say you 
must let me have that Mysie of yours, since you won’t 
come yourself to this concern of ours. I’m afraid you 
won’t think much good has come of us, but we couldn’t 
do the Country Mouse much harm in a fortnight; and 
you know it is Uie wish of my heart that my lonelv Fly 
should grow up on such terms with your flock as Florence 
and I did with you all.” 

He })leaded quite piteously, and he was backed up by 
a letter from his wife, very grateful for her little Phyllis’s 
happy visit, reiterating the invitation to Lady Merrifield, 
and begging that if she still could not come herself, she 
would at least send Jasper and Mysie for the Butterfly’s 
Ball. Mysie’s fancy dress would be ready for her, onlv 
waiting for the final' touches after it was tried on. Lady 
Florence Devereux, too, was near at hand, and wrote to 
promise to look after Mysie. 

There was no refusing after this. Lady Florence was not 
far from being like a sister to her cousins. She had 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD, 


223 


tended her motlier’s old age, and had subsequently settled 
down into the lady of all work of Rotherwood parish. 
Lady Merrifield had much confidence in her, and indeed all 
she saw of Fly gave her a great respect for Lady Rother- 
wood’s management of her child, Harry was going to Ins 
uncle’s at Beechcroft for some shooting, and would bring 
Mysie home when Jasper went back to school. 

So Gillian was called to her mother’s room to be told 
first of the arrangement, which certainly in some aspects 
was rather hard on her. 

could not help it, my dear,” said Lady Merrifield, 

without absolutely asking for an invitation for you.” 

‘‘No, mamma; and it is Mysie who is Fly’s friend, be- 
ing the same age and all. It is quite right, and I under- 
stand it.” 

“ My dear, I am so glad I can do such a thing as this. 
If there were small jealousies among you, I could not vent- 
ure on letting you be set aside, for I know the disap- 
pointment was quite as great to you as to Mysie, when we 
gave it up.” 

“But she was better about it than I,” said Gillian; 
“ mamma, your trusting me in that way is better than a 
dozen balls. Besides, I know I should hate being there 
without you; I’m a great old thing, as Jasper says, neither 
fish nor fowl, you know, not come out, and not a' little 
girl in the school-room, and it would bo very horrid going 
to a grand place like that of one’s own account.” 

“That’s right. Gillyflower. ’Tis very wholesome to 
discover the sourness of the grapes. And as I think 
grandmamma is really coming, I shall want you at home, 
and to look after Dolores.” 

“ That’s tlie worst of it, mamma; I shall never get on 
with her as Mysie does.” 

“ We must do our best, for I do think really the poor 
child is improving.” 

‘* Lessons will begin again! That’s one comfort,” said 
Gillian, ratlier quaintly, thinking of the length of time 
that Dolores would thus be off her hands. 

“And now call Mysie. I must speak to her.” 

As for Mysie, she was in a state of rapture. She knew 
her bliss before her mother had communicated it, for 
Lord Rotherwood could not refrain from telling his 
daughter that consent was gained, and Fly darted head- 


224 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


long to embrace Mysie, dance round her and rejoice. 
The boys declared that Mysie at once sprung into the air 
like a chamois, and that her head touched the ceiling, 
but this is believed to be a figment of Jasper’s. 

It was only on the summons to her mother’s room that 
Mysie discovered that Gillian was not going with her. It 
dimmed the luster of her delignt for a little while. Oh, 
Gill, aren’t you very sorry? You ought to have had the 
first turn.” 

“Never mind, Mysie, you are Fly’s friend” — and the 
two sisters’ looks at one another at that moment were a 
real pleasure to their mother. 

Mysie was of a less shy nature than Gillian, as well as 
at a less awkward age, so that the visiting without her 
mother was less formidable, and she rushed about wild 
with delight; but Dolores was very disconsolate. 

“ Every one I care for goes away and changes,” she 
said in her melancholy little sentiment. 

“But it’s only for a fortnight, Dolly, I don’t think I 
could change so fast.” 

“ Oh yes, you will, among all those swells. You like 
Fly ever so much better than me.” 

Mysie looked grieved and puzzled, but then exclaimed, 
in tiie tone of a discovery, “There are different sorts of 
likings, Dolly, don’t you see. I do love Fly very much, 
but you know you are like a sort of almost twin sister to 
me. I li^e her best, but I care about you most!” 

With which curious distinction Dolores had to put up. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

A SADDEK AND A WISER AUTHORESS. 

OOLOHEL Mohuh took Wilfred to his school, which be- 
gan its term earlier than did Jasper’s, and Silverton was 
wonderfully quiet. The elder Mrs. Merrifield was not to 
come for nearly a week, so that it would have been possi- 
ble for her dangli ter- in-law to go to the RotherwooJ 
festivities without interfering with her visit, but this no 
one except Gillian and Mysie knew, and they kept the 
secret well. 

The departure of the boys was a great relief to Dolores, 


225 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

Her aunt did not rank her with Valetta and Fergus, but 
let her consort with herself and Gillian, and this suited 
her much better. Even Gillian allowed that she was ever 
so much nicer when there was no one to tease her. It 
was true that Jasper certainly, and perhaps Wilfred, 
would not have molested her if slie had not offended the 
latter, and offered herself as fair game; but Gillian, who 
had to forestall and prevent their pranks, could not feel 
their absence quite the privation her sisterly spirit usual- 

Valetta and Fergus were harmless without them, but 
they were forlorn, being so much used to having their 
sports led by their two seniors that they hardly knew what 
to do without them, and the entreaty, or rather the whine, 
‘‘I want something to do,’’ was heard unusually often. 
This led to Gillian’s being often called off to attend to 
them during the course of wet days that ensued, and thus 
Dolores was a good deal alone with her aunt, who was 
superintending her knitting a pair of silk stockings to 
send out to her father, it was hoped in time for his next 
birthday. 

At the first proposal, Dolores looked dull and unwill- 
ing, and at last she squeezed out, don’t think father 
will ever want me to do anything for him again.” 

‘‘ My poor child, do you think a father does not forgive 
and love all the more one who is in deep sorrow for a fault?” 

‘‘ I don’t think my letter seemed sorry! I w'as not half 
so sorry then as I arn now,” tlien at a kind word from her 
aunt her eyes overflowed, and she said, “ No, I v/asn’t; I 
didn’t know how good you were, or how bad I was!” 

And when Aunt Lily kissed her, she put her arms 
round the kind neck that bent down to her, and laid her 
head against it, as if it was quite a rest to feel that love. 
Her aunt encouraged her to write again to her father, and 
to try to express something of her grief and entreaty for 
forgiveness, and slie was somewhat cheered after this; as 
though something of the load on her mind was removed. 
One dav she brought down all the books in her room and 
said, ‘^ Please, Aunt Lily, look at them, and let them be 
with the rest in the school-room, I want to be just like the 
others.” 

Lady Merrifield was much pleased with this surrender. 
Some of the books were really well worth having and 
8 


22G THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

leading, indeed, the best of them she knew, but tliere 
were eight or ten which she suspected of being what 
Mvsie called silly stories, and she kept them back to look 
over. She had been trying in this quiet interval to get 
Dolly to read something besides mere childish stories for 
recreation; and when she saw how well worn the story 
books were, and how untouched the ‘‘easy history,’’ and 
the books about animals and foreign countries were, she 
saw why so clever a girl as Dolores seemed so stupid about 
everything she had not learned as a lesson, and entirely 
ignorant of English poetry. 

Lady Merrifield read to her and Gillian in the evenings, 
and how they did enjoy it, and bemoaned the coming of 
grandmamma, to spoil their snugness and occupy “ mam- 
ma.” For Dolores began so to call Lady Merrifield. She 
had never so termed her own mother, and it seemed to 
hei' that with the words “Aunt Lily” she put away all 
sorts of foolish, sinister feelings. 

Mrs. ^ferrifield was a wonderful old lady, brisk of 
mind and body, though of great age. She had been 
spending Christmas with her eldest son, the admiral, at 
Stokesley, and was going to take on her way the daugh- 
ter-in-law, of whom she knew but little in comparison; 
and with her she brought the granddaughter, Elizabeth 
Merrifield, who— since her own daughter had died — gen- 
erally lived with her in London, to take care of her. 

“ It will be all company and horrid, and nobody will 
be allowed to make a noise!” sighed Valetta to Fergus, 
as the wagonette, well shut up, drove to, the door. 

“There’s Cousin Bessie,” said Fergus. 

“ Oh, Cousin Bessie is thirty-four, and that is as bad 
as being as old as grandmamma!” 

And they hung back while the old lady was helped 
out, and brouglit across the hall into the warm drawing, 
room before her fur cloak was taken off. There was a 
quiet little person with her, and Val whispered, “She’ll 
be just like Aunt Jane.” 

But the eyes that Bessie turned on her cousins were 
not at all like Aunt Jane’s, little searching' black ones. 
They were of a dark shade of gray, and had a wonder- 
ful softness and sweetness in theni. Gillian knew her 
a little already, but very little, for there had always 
been the elder sisters at their former short meetings. 


227 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

Mamma lamented that there should be so few grand- 
children at home to be shown, though, as she said, 
“ the full number might have been too noisy.’’ 

Grandmamma shook her head. ‘‘ I like the house 
full,” she said, I am all right, but it is a pity to see 
the nest emptied, like Stokesley, now. Nobody left at 
home but Susan and little Sally! Make the most of 
them wliile you have them about you!” 

The old lady was quite, delighted to find Primrose so 
nearly a baby, and to have one grandchild still {piite as 
small or smaller than some of her great grandchildren 
whom she had never seen. Her great pleasure, however, 
soon proved to be in talking about her son Jaspei-j and 
hearing all his wife could tell her about his life in India; 
and as Lady Merrifield liked no other subject so well, 
they were very happy together, and quite absorbed. 

Meanwhile Bessie made herself a companion to Gillian 
and Dolores, and though so much older, seemed to con- 
sider herself a girl like them. Then, living for tlie most 
part in town, she could talk about London matters to 
Dolly, and this was a great treat, while yet she had 
country tastes enough to suit Gillian, and was not in the 
least afraid of a long walk to the fir plantation to pick up 
Weymouth pine cones, and the still more precious pinaster 
ones. 

For the first time Gillian began to see Dolores as Uncle 
Ebginald used to know her, free from that heavy mist of 
sullen dislike to everything and everybody. It seemed to 
bring them together, but, in spite of Bessie’s charms, they 
both continually missed Mysie, out-of-doors and in, in 
school-room and drawing-room, and, above all, in Dolly’s 
bedroom. She seemed to be, as Gillian told Bessie, “ a 
sort of family cement, holding the two ends, big and 
little, together;” and Bessie responded that her elder 
sister Susan was one of that sort. 

The evenings now were quite unlike the usual ones. 
Dinner was late, and the two girls came down to it. After- 
ward the young ones sat round the fire in the hall, where 
Bessie, who was a wonderful story-teller, kept Fergus and 
Valotta quiet and delighted, either with invented tales or 
histories of the feats of her own brothers and sisters, 
who were so much older than their Silverton first cousins 
US to be like an elder generation, 


228 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


When the two young ones were gone to bed, tlie others 
came into the drawing-room, where mamma and grand- 
mamma were to be found, eillier going over pajia’s letters, 
or else Mrs. Merrifleld talking about her Stokesley grand- 
children, the same whose pranks Bessie had just been 
telling, so that It was not easy to believe in Sam, a captain 
in the navy, Harry and John farming In Canada, David 
working as a clergyman in the Black Country, George in 
a government office, Anne a clergyman’s wife, and mother 
to the great-grandchildren who were always being com- 
pared to Primrose, Susan keeping her father’s house, and 
Sarah, though as old as Alethea, still treated as the 
youngest — the child of the family. 

The bits of conversation came to the girls as they sat 
over their work, and Bessie would join in, and tell inter- 
esting Things, till she saw that grand mairrma was ready 
for her nap, and then one or other gave a little music, 
during which Dolly’s bed-time generally came. 

You can’t think how grateful I am to you for help- 
ing to brighten up that poor child in a wholesome way!” 
said Lady Merrifield to Bessie, under cover of Gillian’s 
performance. 

“ One can’t help being very sorry for her,” said Eliza- 
beth, who knew what was hanging over Dolly. 

Yes, it is a terrible punishment, especially as she has 
a certain affection for her step-uncle, or whatever he 
sliould be called, for her mother’s sake. It really was 'a 
perplexed situation.” 

But why did she not consult you?” 

Do you know, I think I have found out. She held 
aloof from us all, and treated us — especially me — as if we 
were her natural enemies, and I never could guess what 
was the reason till the othcr.day; she voluntarily gave me 
up all her books to be looked over and put into the com- 
mon stock, which you saw in the school-room.” 

You look overall the children’s sclu-^ol-books?” 

‘‘Yes. While we were wandering, they did not get 
enougii to make it a very arduous task, and now I find 
that they want weeding. If children read nothing but a 
multitude of stories rather bgiieath their capacity, they are 
likely never to exert themselves to anything beyond novel 

reading.” 

“ That is quite true, I believe.” 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


229 


Well, among this literature of Dolly’s I found no less 
than four stories based on the cruelty and injustice 
- suffered by orphans from their aunts. Tlie wicked step- 
mothers are gone out, and the barbarous aunts are come 
in. It is the stock subject. I really think it is cruel, 
considering tliat there are many cliildren who have to be 
adopted into uncle's families, to add to their distress and 
terror, by raising this prejudice. Just look at this one” 
— taking up Dolly’s favorite, “Clare; or, No Home ” — 
“it is not at all badly written, which makes it all the 
worse.” 

’ “ Oh, Aunt Lilias,” cried Bessie, whose color had been 
rising all this time. “How shall I tell you? I wrote 
it!” 

“You! I never guessed you did anything in that 
line.” 

“We don’t talk about it. My father knows, and so 
does grandmamma, in a way; but I never bring it before 
her if I can help it, for she does'not half like the notion. 
But, indeed, they aren’t all as bad as that! I know now there 
is a great deal of silly imitation in it; but I never thought 
of doing harm in this way. It is a punishment for thouglit- 
lessness,” cried poor Bessie, reddening desperately, and 
with tears in her eyes. 

“ My dear, I am so sorny I said it! If I had not one of 
these aunts, I should think it a very effective story.” 

“ I’m afraid that’s so much the worse! Let mo tell you 
about it. Aunt Lilias. At home, they always laughed at 
me for my turn for d ism ali ties.” 

“ I believe one always has such a turn when one is 
young.” 

“ Well, when I went to live with grandmamma, it was 
very different from the household at home, I had so much 
tinm on my hands, and I took to dreaming and writing 
because I could not help it, and all my stories wore fear- 
fully doleful. I did not think of publishing them for 
ever so long, but at last when David terribly wanted some 
money for Jiis mission church, I thought I w'ould try, and 
this ‘Clare’ was about the best. They took it, and gave me 
five pounds for it, and I was so pleased and never thoi^dit 
of its doing harm, and now I don’t know how much more 
mischief it may have done!” 

“ You only thought of piling up the agony! But don’t 


230 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

be unhappy about it. You don’t know how many aunts 
it may have warned.” 

rrn afraid aunts are not so impressionable as nieces. 
And, indeed, among ourselves, story-books seemed quite 
outside from life, we never thought of getting any ideas 
from them any more than from Bluebeard.” 

So it has been with some of mine, while, on the^other 
hand, Dolores seemed to Mysie an interesting story-book 
heroine — wh-ich indeed she is, rather too much so. But 
you have not stood still with ‘ Ciare.’” 

No, I hope I have grown rather more sensible. David 
set me to do stories for his lads, and, as he is dreadfully 
critical, it was very improving.” 

‘‘ Did you write ‘Kate’s Jewel’? That is delightful. 
Aunt Jane gave it to Val this Christmas, and all of us 
have enjoyed it? We shall be quite proud of it — that is 
— may 1 tell the children?” 

“~Oh, aunt, you are very good to try to make me for- 
get that miserable ‘Clare.’ I wonder whether it will do 
any good to tell Dolores all about it. Only I can’t get at 
all the other girls I may have hurt.” 

“Nay, Bessie, I think it most likely that Dolores 
would have been an uncomfortable damsel, even if ‘ Clare ’ 
had remained in your brain. There were other causes, at 
any rate, here are three more persecuted nieces in her 
library. Besides, as you observed, everybody does not go 
to story-books for views of human nature, and happily, 
also, homeless children are commoner in books than out of 
them, so I don’t think the damage can be very extensive,” 

“ One such case is quite enough! Indeed, it is a great 
lesson to think whether what one writes can give any 
wrong notion.” 

“I believe one always does begin with imitation.” 

“ Yes, it is extraordinary how little originality there is 
in the world. In the literature of my time, everybody 
had small hands and high foreheads, the girls wanted to 
do great things, and did, or did not do, little ones, and 
the boys all took first classes, and the fashion was to have 
violet eyes, so dark you could not tell their color, and 
golden hair.” 

“ Whereas now the hair is apt to be bronze, whatever 
that may be like.” 

“ And all the dresses, and all the com])lexions, and all 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 231 

the lacc, and all the roses, are creamy. Bessie, I hope 
you don’t deal in creaminess!” 

I’m afraid skim milk is more like me, and that yon 
would say I had taken to the goody line. I never thought 
of the responsibility tlien^ ofily when I wrote for David’s 
classes.” 

“ It is a responsibility, I suppose, in the way in 
which every word one speaks and every letter one writes 
is so. And now — here is Gillian finishing her piece. 
How far is it a secret, my dear?” 

It need not be so here, Aunt Lilias. Only my people 
are rather old-fashioned, you know, and are inclined to 
think it rather shocking of me, so it ought not to go be- 
yond the family, and especially don’t let Aer,” indicating 
her grandmother, hear about it. She knows I do such 
things — it would not be honest not to tell her — but it 
goes against the grain, and she has never heard one word 
of it all.” 

It appeared that Bessie daily read the psalms and les- 
sons to grandmamma, followed up by a sermon. Then, 
with her wonderful eyes, Mrs. Merrifield read the news- 
paper from end to end, which lasted her till luncheon, then 
came a drive in the brougham, followed by a rest in her 
own room, dinner, and then Bessie read her to sleep with 
a book of travels or biography, of the old book-club class 
of her youth. Her principles were against novels, and 
tlie tale she viewed as only fit for children. 

Lady Merrifield could not help thinking wlVat a dull 
life it must be for Bessie, a woman full of natural gifts 
and of great powers of enjoyment, accustomed to a coun- 
try home and a large family, and she said something of 
the kind. ‘"I did not like it at first,” said Bessie, “but 
I have plenty of occupations now, besides all these com- 
panions that I’ve made for myself, or that came to me, 
for I think they come of themselves.” 

“But what time have you to yourself?” 

“Grandmamma does not want me till half past ten in 
the morning, except for a little visit. And she does not 
mind my writing letters while she is reading t!ie paper, 
provided I am ready to answer anything remarkable. I 
am quite the family newsmonger! Tlien there’s always 
from four to half inist six when I can go out if I like. 
There’s a dear old governess of ours living not far off, and 


233 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 


we have nice little expeditions together. And you know 
it is nice to be at the family head-quarters in London, and. 
have every one dropping in.’’ 

“ Oh, dear! how good you are to like going on like 
that,” said Gillian, who had come up while this was pass- 
ing; I sliould eat my heart out; you must be made of 
con tentment.” 

Elizabeth held up her hand in warning lest her grand- 
mother should be wakened, but she laughed and said: 
“ My brothers would tell you I used to be Pipy Bet. . But 
that dear old governess. Miss Fosbrook, was the making 
of me, and taught me how to be jolly like ‘ Mark Tapley ’ 
among the rattlesnakes,” she finished, looking drolly up 
to Gillian. 

And, Gill, you don’t know what Bessie has made her 
companions instead of the rattlesnakes,” said Lady Merri- 
field. Wliat do you think of ^ Kate’s Jewel 

Gillian’s astonishment and rapture actually woke grand- 
mamma; not that she made much noise, but there was a 
disturbing force about her excitement; and the subject 
had to be abandoned. 

As the great secret might be shared with Dolores, 
though not with the younger ones, whose discretion could 
not be depended upon, Gillian could enter upon it the 
more freely, though she was rather disappointed that an 
author was not such an extraordinary sight to Dolly as to 
herself. But it was charming to both that Bessie let 
them look at the proofs of the story she was publisliing in 
a magazine; and allowed them as well as mamma, to read 
the manuscript of the tale, romance, or novel, wliichever it 
was to be called, on which she wished for her aunt’s opinion. 

Bessie took care, when complying with the girls’ en- 
treaty, that she would tell them all she had written, to 
observe that, she thought ‘‘Clare” a very foolish bool^ in- 
deed, and that slie wished heartily she had never written 
it. Gillian asked why she had done it? 

“ Oh,” said Dolores, “things aren’t interesting unless 
something horrid happens, or some one is frightened, or 
very miserable.” 

“I like things best just and exactly as they really are 
— or were,” said Gillian. 

“The question between sensation and character,” said 
Bessie to her aunt. “ I suppose tliat, on the whole, it is tliQ 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 233 

few who are palpably affected by the mass of fiction in the 
world; but that it is needful to take good care that those 
few gather at least no harm from one’s work — to be faith- 
ful in it, ill fact, like other things.” 

And tliere was no doubt that Bessie had been faithful 
in her work ever since she had realized her vocation. 
Her lending library books, written with a purpose, were 
excellent, and^were already so much valued by Miss Ilacket 
that Gillian thought how once she should have felt it a 
privation not to be allowed to tell her whence they came; 
but to her surprise on the Sunday, instead of the con- 
straint with which of late she had been treated at tea- 
time, the eager inquiry was made whether this was really 
the authoress. Miss Merrifield? 

Secrets are not kept as well as people think. The Hack- 
ets’ married sister was a neighbor of Bessie’s married sis- 
ter, and through these ladies it had just come round, not 
only who was the author of ‘^Charlie’s Wiiistle,” etc., 

but that she wrote in Magazine,” and was in the 

neighborhood. 

AW offenses seemed to be forgotten in the burning 
desire for an introduction to this marvel of success. Con- 
stance had made the most of her opportunities in gazing 
at church; but if she called, would she be introduced? 

‘‘ Of course,” said Gillian, “ if my cousin is in the 
room.” She spoke rather coldly and gravely, and Miss 
Hacket exclaimed — 

know we have been a little remiss, my dear; I hope 
Lady Merrifield was not offended. 

Mamma is never offended,” said Gillian — ^^but, I do 
tliink, and so would she and all of us, that if Constance 
comes, she ought to treat Dolores Mohnn — as — as — usual.” 

The two sisters were silent, perhaps from sheer amaze- 
ment at this outbreak of Gillian’s, who had never seemed 
particularly fond of her cousin. Gillian was quite as 
much surprised at herself, but something seemed to drive 
her on, with flaming cheeks. ‘‘Dolores is half broken- 
hearted about it all. She did not thoroughly know how 
wrong it was; and it does make her miserable that the 
one who went along with her in it, should turn against 
her, and cut her, and all.” 

“Connie never meant to keep it up, I’m sure,” said 
Miss Hacket; “ but she was very much hurt,” 


234 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


‘‘ So was Dolly,” said Gillian. 

‘‘Is she so fond of me?” said Constance, in a softened 
tone. 

“ She was,” replied Gillian. 

“Fm sure,” said Miss Hacket, “our only wish is to 
forget and forgive, as Christians. Lady Merrifield has 
behaved most handsomely, and it is our most earnest wish 
tiiat this unfortunate transaction should be forgotten.” 

“ And Ihn sure Fm willing to overlook it all,” said 
Constance. “One must have scrapes, you know; but 
friendship will triumph over all.” 

Gillian did not exactly wish to unravel this fine senti- 
ment, and was glad that the little G.F.S. maid came in 
with the tea. 

Lady Merrifield was a good deal diverted with Gillian’s 
report, and invited the two sisters to luncheon on the 
plea of their slight acquaintance with Anne — otherwise 
Mrs. Daventry — with a hint in the note not to compli- 
ment Mrs. Merrifield on Elizabeth’s production. 

Then Dolores had to be prepared to receive any advance 
from Constance. She looked disgusted at first, and then, 
when she heard that Gillian had spoken her mind, said, 
“1 can’t think why ybu should care.” 

“ Of course I care to have Constance behaving so ill to 
one of us.” 

“Do you think me one of you, Gillian?” 

“ Who, what else are you?” 

And Dolores held up her face for a kiss, a heartier one 
than had ever passed between the cousins. 

There was no kiss between the quondam friends, but 
they shook hands with perfect civility, and no strangeT 
would have guessed their former or their present terms 
from their manner. In fact, Constance was perfectly ab- 
sorbed in the contemplation of the successful authoress, 
the object of her envy and veneration, and only wanted 
to forget all the unpleasantness connected witirthe dark 
head on the opposite side of the table. 

“Oh, Miss Merrifield,” she asked, in an interval after- 
ward, when hats were being put on, “how do you make 
tke7ji U\Vq your things?” 

“1 don't know,” said Bessie, smiling. “I take all the 
pains I can, and I try to make them useful.” 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


235 


Useful, but that’s so dull — and the critics always 
laugh at things with a purpose.” 

But I don’t think that is a reason for not trying to 
do good, even in this very small and uncertain way. In- 
deed,” she added, earnestly, “I liave no right to speak, 
for 1 have made great mistakes; but I wanted to tell you 
that the one tiling I did get published, which was not 
written conscientiously — as I may say — but only to work 
out a silly, sentimental fancy, has brought me pain and 
punishment by the harm I know I did.” 

This was a very new idea to Constance, and she actually 
carried it away witli her. The visit had restored the 
usual terms of intercourse with the Ilackets, though there 
was no resumption of intimacy such as there had been, 
between Constance and Dolores. It had, however, done 
much to make the latter feel that the others considered 
themselves one with them, and there was something that 
drew them together in the universal missing of Mysie, 
and eagerness for her letters. 

These were, however, rather disappointing. Mysie had 
not a genius for correspondence, and dealt in very bare 
facts. There was an inclosure which made Lady Merri- 
field somewhat anxious: 

“ My DEAR Mamma,— This is for you all hy yourself. I have 
been in sad mischief, for I broke the conservatory and a palm-tree 
with my umbrella; andl did still worse, for I broke my promise 
and told all about what you told me never to. I will tell you all 
when I come home, and I hope you will forgive me. I wish I was 
at home. It is very horrid when they say one is good and one 
know^s one is not; but I am very happy, and Lord Rotherwood is 
nicer than ever, and so is Fly. 

“ I am your affectionate and penitent and dutiful little daughter, 
“ Maria Milltcent Merrifield.” 

With all mamma’s intuitive knowledge of her little 
daughter’s mind and forms of expression, she was puzzled 
by this note and the various fractures it described. She 
obeyed its injunctions of secrecy, even with regard to 
Gillian and Bessie, though she could not help wishing 
that the latter could have seen and judged of her Mysie. 

Grandmamma was somewhat disappointed to have 
missed her eldest grandson, but she was obliged to leave 
Silverton two days before his return with his little sister. 
She had certainly escaped the full tumult of the entire 


236 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


household, but Bessie observed that she snsj^ected that it 
might have been preferred to the general quiescence. 

In spite of all the regrets that Bessie’s more coeval 
cousins, Aleihea and Phyllis was not at home, she and her 
aunt each felt that a new friendship had been made, and 
that they understood each other, and Bessie had uttered 
lier resolution henceforth always to think of the impres- 
sion for good or evil produced on the readers, as well as 
oMlie efl'ectiveness of her story. “Little did I suppose 
that ‘ Clare-’ would add to any one’s difficulties,” she 
said, “still less to yours, Aunt Lilias.” 


CHAPTER XX. 

CONFESSIONS OF A COUNTRY MOUSE. 

Here were the travelers at home again, and Mysie 
clinging to her mother, with “Oh, mammal” and a look 
of perfect rest. They arrived at the same time as Dolores 
had come, so late that Mysie was tired out, and only half 
awake. She was consigned to Mrs. Halfpenny after her 
first kiss, but as she passed along the corridor a door was 
thrown back, and a white fi^iire sprung upon her. “ Oh, 
Mysie! Mysie!” and in spite of the nurse’s chidings, held 
her fast in an embrace of delight. Dolores had been ly- 
ingawake watching for her, and implored permission at 
least to look on v/hile she was going to bod! 

Harry meanwhile related his experiences to his mother 
and Gillian over the supper-table. The Butterfly’s ball 
had been a great success. He had never seen anything 
prettier in his life. Plants and lights had been judicious- 
ly disposed so as to make the hall a continuation of the 
conservatory, almost a fairy-land, and the children in their 
costumes had been more liko fairies than flesh and blood, 
pinafore and bread-and-butter beings. There was a most 
perfect tableau at the opening of the scenery constructed 
with moss and plants, so as to form a bower, where the 
Butterfly and Grasshopper, with their immediate attend- 
ants, welcomed their company, and afterward formed 
their first quadrille. Lady Phyllis, with Mysie and two 
other little girls staying in the. house, being the butter- 
flies, and Lord Ivinghoe and three more boys of the same 
age, the grasshoppers, in pages’ dresses of suitable colors. 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD* 237 

I never thought/’ said Harry, that our little brown 
mouse would come out so pretty or so well.” 

“ She wanted to be tlie dormouse,” said Gillian. 

Tliat was impracticable. They were all heath butter- 
flies of different sorts, wings very correctly colored and 
dresses to correspond. Phyllis, the ringlet with the blue 
lining, Mysie, the blue one, little Lady Alberta, the 
orange-tip, and the other child the burnet moth.” 

How did Mysie dance?” 

Very fairly, if she had not looked so awfully serious. 
The dancing- mistress, French, of course, had trained 
them; it was more ballet than quadrille, and they looked 
uncommonly pretty. Uncle William granted that, though 
he grumbled at the whole concern as nonsense, and won- 
dered you should send your nice little girl into it to have 
her head turned.” 

Do you tliink she was happy?” 

‘‘ Oh, yes, of course. She always is, but she was in 
prodigious spirits when we started to come home. Lady 
Eotherwood said 1 was to tell you that no child could be 
more truthful and concientious. Still somehow she did 
not look like the swells. Except that once, when she was 
got up regardless of expense for the ball, she always had 
the country mouse look about her. She hadn’t — ” 

The ‘Jenny Say Caw,’ as Macrae calls it?” said his 
mother. “Well, I can endure that! You need not look 
so disgusted. Gill. You didn’t hear of her getting into 
any scra]')e, did you?” 

“No,” said Hal. “Stay, I believe she did break some 
glass or other, and blurted out her confession in full assem- 
bly, but I was over at Beechcroft, and I am hapi^y to say 
I didn’t see her.” 

Mysie’s tap came early to her mother’s door the next 
morning, and it was in the midst of her toilet that Lady 
Merri field was called on to hear the confession that had 
been weighing on the little girl’s mind. 

“ I was too sleepy to tell you last night, mamma, but I 
did want to do so.” 

“Well, then, my dear, begin at the beginning, for I 
could not understand your letter.” 

“The beginning, was, mamma, that we had just come 
in from our walk, and we went out into the school-room 
balcony, because we could not see round the corner who 


238 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

was coming np the drive. And we began playing at camps, 
with umbrellas up as tents. Ivinghoe, and Alberta, and 
I. Ivy was general, and I was the sentry, witii rny umbrella 
shut up, and over my shoulder. I was the only one who 
knew how to present arms. I heard something coming, 
and called out, ^ Who goes there?’ and Albert jumped up 
in such a hurry that the points of her tent — her umbrella, 
I mean — scratched my face, and before I could recover 
arms, over went my umbrella, perpendicular, straight, 
smash through the glass of the conservatorv, and we heard 
it.” 

And what did you do? Of course yon told?” 

Oh, yes! I jumped up and said, ^ I’ll go and tell 
Lady Rot her wood.’ I knew I must before I got into a 
fright, and Ivinghoe said I couldn’t then, and he would 
speak to his mother and make it easy for me, and Fly says 
he really meant it; but I thought then that’s the way the 
bad ones always get the others into concealments and lies. 
So I wouldn’t listen a moment, and I ran down, with him 
after me, saying, ‘Hear reason, Mysie.’ And I ran full 
butt up against somebody — Lord Ormersfield it was, I 
found — but I didn’t know then. I only said something 
about begging pardon, and dashed on, and opened the 
door. I saw a whole lot of fine people all at five-o’clock 
tea, but I couldn’t stop to get more frightened, and I went 
up straight to Lady Rotherwood and said, ‘Please, I did 
it.’ Mamma, do you think I ought not?” 

“There are such things as fit places and times, my 
dear. What did she say?” 

“ At first she just said, ‘My dear, I can not attend to 
you now, run away;’ but then in the midst, a thought 
seemed to strike her, and she said, rather frightened, ‘Is 
any one hurt?’ and I said, ‘Oh, no; only my umbrella 
has gone right through the roof of the conservatory,’ and 
I thought I ought to come and tell her directly. '‘ That 
was the noise,’ said some of the people, and everybody 
got up and went to look. And there were Fly and Ivy, 
who had got in some other way, and the umbrella was 
sticking right upright in the top of one of those palm- 
trees with leaves like screens, and somebody said it was a 
new development of fruit. Lady Rotherwood asked them 
what they were doing there, and Ivy said they had come 
to see what harm was done. Dear Fly ran up to her and 


239 


THE TWO’ SIDES OF THE SHIELD, 

said, ‘We were all at play together, mother; it was not 
one more than another;’ but Lady Hotherwood only said, 

‘ That’s enough, Phyllis, I will come to you by and by in 
the school-room,’ and she would have sent us away if 
Cousin Rotherwood himself had not come in just then, 
and asked what was the matter. 1 heard some of the an- 
swers; they were very odd, mamma. One was, ‘ A storm 
of umbrellas and of untimely confessions;’ and another 
was, ‘ Truth in undress.’ ” 

“ Oh, my dear! I hope you were fit to be seen?” 

“ I forgot about that, mamma. I had taken off my 
ulster, and had my little scarlet flannel underbody, so as 
to make a better soldier.” 

“Oh!” groaned Lady Merrifield. 

“ And then that dear, good Fly gave a jump and flew 
at him, and said, ‘ Oh, daddy, daddy, it’s Mysie, and 
she has been telling the truth like — like Frank, or Sir 
Thomas Moore, or George Washington, or anybody.’ She 
really did say so, mamma.” 

“ I can quite believe it of her, Mysie! And how dRl 
Cousin Rotherwood respond?” 

“ lie sat down upon one of the seats, and took Fly on 
one knee and me on the other, though we were big for it 
— just like papa, you know — and made us tell him all 
about it. Lady Rotherwood got the others out of the 
way somehow — 1 don’t know how, for my back was that 
way, and I think Ivinghoe went after them, but there Avas^ 
some use in talking to Cousin Rotherwood; he has got ^ 
some sense, and knows what one means, as if he was 
at the dear, nice playing age, and Ivinghoe was his stupid 
old father in a book.” 

“Exactly,” said Lady Merrifield, delighted, and long- 
ing to laugh. 

“ But that was the worst of it,” said Mysie, sadly; “ he 
was so nice that I said all sorts of things I didn’t mean or 
ought to have said. I told him I would pay for the glass 
if he would only wait till we had helped Dolores pay for 
those books that the check was for, because the man came 
alive again, after her wicked uncle had said he was dead, 
and so somehow it all came out; how you made up to 
Miss Constance, and couldn’t come to the Butterfly.’s Ball 
for want of new dresses.” 


240 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


Oh, Mysie, you should not have said that! I thought 
you were to be trusted 1” 

^^Yes, mamma, I know,” said Mysie, meekly. ‘‘I 
recollected as soon as I had said it; and told him, and he 
kissed me and promised he would never tell any one, and 
made Fly promise that she never would. But I have 
been so miserable about it ever since, mamma; I tried to 
write it in a letter, but I am afraid you didn’t half under- 
stand.” 

‘‘I only saw that something was on your mind, my 
dear. ISow that is all over, I do not so much mind Cous- 
in Kotherwood’s knowing, he has always been so hke a 
brother; but I do hope^botli he and Fly will keep their 
word.* I am more sorry for my little girl’s telling than 
about his knowing.” 

And Ivinghoe said my running in that way on all the 
company was worse tlnui breaking the glass or the palm- 
tree. Was it, mamma?” 

‘‘ Weil, you know, Mysie, there is a time for all things, 
and very likely it vexed Lady Bother wood more to be in- 
vaded by such a little wild colt.” 

“ But not Cousin Eotherwood himself, mamma,” said 
Mysie, ‘^for he said I was quite right, and an honorable 
little fellow, just like old times. And so I told Ivy. And 
he said in such a way, ‘ Every one knew what his father 
was.’ So I -told him his father was ten thousand times 
nicer than ever he would be if he lived a hundred years, 
and I could not bear him if he talked in that wicked, dis- 
respectful wa}^ and Fly kissed me for it, mamma, and 
said her daddy was worth a hundred of such a prig as he 
was.” 

“My dear, I am afraid neither you nor Fly showed 
your good manners,” 

“It was only Ivinghoe, mamma, and I’m sure I don’t 
care what he thinks, if he could talk of his father in that 
way. Isn’t it what ybii call metallical — no— ironical?” 

“ Indeed, Mjsie, I don’t wonder it made you very an- 
gry, and I can’t be sorry you showed your indignation.” 

“ But please, mamma, what ought I to have done about 
the glass?” 

“I don’t quite know; I think a very wise .little girl 
might have gone to Cousin Florence’s room and consulted 
her. It would have been better than making an explo- 


THE TWO SIDES OE THE SHIELD. 


241 


sion before so many people. Florence was kind to you, I 
hope.” 

‘‘ Oil, yes, mamma, it was almost like being at home in 
her room; and she has such a dear little house at the end 
of the park.” 

A good deal more oozed out from Mysie to different au- 
ditors at different times. By her account everything was 
delightful, and yet mamma concluded that all had not 
absolutely fulfilled the paradisaical expectation with 
which her country mouse had viewed Kotherwood from 
afar. 

Lady Kotherwood was very kind, and so was the gover- 
ness, and Cousin Florence especially. Cousin Florence’s 
house felt just like a bit of home. It really was the dear- 
est little house — and fluffy cat and kittens, and the sweet- 
est love birds. It was perfectly delicious when they drank 
tea tliere, but unluckily she was not allowed to go thither 
without the governess or Louise, as it was all across the 
park, and a bit of village. 

And Fly? Oh, Fly was always dear and good and 
funny; but there was Alberta to be attended to, and 
other little girls sometimes, and it was not like having 
her here at home; nor was there any making a row in the 
galleries, nor playing at anything really jolly, though the 
great pillars in the hall seemed made for tying cords to to 
make a spider’s web. It was always company, except when 
Cousin Kotherwood called them into his den for a little 
fun. But he had gentlemen to entertain most of the 
time, and the only day that he could have taken them to 
see the farm and the pheasants, Lady Kotherwood said 
that Phyllis was a little hoarse and must not get a cold 
before the ball. 

And as to the Butterfly’s Ball itself? Imagination had 
depicted a splendid realization of the verses, and it was 
flat to find it merely a children’s fancy ball, no acting at 
all, only dancing, and most of the children not attempt- 
ing any characteristic dress, only with some insect attached 
to head or shoulder; nothing approaching to the fun of 
the rehearsal at Silverton, as indeed Fly had predicted. 
The only attempt at representation had cost Mysie more 
trouble than pleasure, for the training to dance together 
had been a difficult and wearisome business. Two of the 
grasshoppers had been greatly displeased about it, and 


^42 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD, 

called it a beastly shame, words much shocking gentle 
Mvsie from aristocratic lips. One of them had been as 
sulky, migry, and impracticable as possible, just like a 
log, and the other had consoled himself witli all manner 
of tricks, especially upon the teacher and on Ivinghoe. 
He would skip like a real grasshopper, he made faces that 
set all laughing, he tripped Ivinghoe up, he uttered saucy 
speeches that Mysie considered too shocking to repeat, 
but which convulsed every one with laughter. Fly most 
especially, and her governess had punished her for it. 
“ She would not punish me,” said Mysie, though I 
know I was just as bad, and I think that was a shame!” 
At last the practicing had to be carried- on without the 
boys, and yet, when it came to the point, both the recus- 
ants behaved as well and danced as suitably as if they had 
submitted to the training like their sisters! And oh! the 
dressing, that was worse, 

I did not think I was so stupid,” said Mysie, but I 
heard Louise tell mademoiselle that I was trop 'boiirgeoise, 
and mademoiselle answered that T was plutot petite pay- 
saTvne, and would never have Vair de distinction^^ 

‘‘ Abominable impertinence!” cried Gillian. 

‘‘ Fhcy thought I did not understand,” said Mysie, 
^‘and I knew it was fair to tell them, so I said, ^ 3Iais 
non, car je suis let petite soterts de compayned ” 

Well done, Mysie!” cried her sister. 

They did jump, and Louise began apologizing in a 
perfect gabble, and mademoiselle said I had't/e Vesprit, 
but I am sure I did not mean it.” 

But how could they?” exclaimed Gillian. I’m sure 
Mysie looks like a lady, a gentleman’s child — I mean as 
much as Fly or any one else.” 

‘‘I trust you all look like gentlewomen, and are such 
in refineipent and manners, but there is an air, which 
comes partly of birth, partly of breeding, and that none of 
you, except, perhaps, Alethea, can boast of, and about 
which papa and I don’t care one rush.” 

Has Fly got it, mamma?” said Valetta. She seemed 
like one of ourselves.” 

Oh, yes,” put in Dolores. It was what made me 
-think her stuck up. I should have known her for a swell 
anywhere?” 

‘‘Fm sure Fly has no airs!” exclaimed Val, hotly, and 


243 


> THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

Gillian was ready to second her; but Lady Merrificld ex- 
plained. The absence of airs is one ingredient, 
botli in being lady-like, and in the distinction in which 
the maid justly perceived oiir Mouse to be deficient. Come, 
you foolish girls, don’t look concerned. Nobody but the 
maid would Ireve ever let Mysie perceive the difference.” 

Mysie colored and answered', “ I don’t know; I saw the 
Fitzhiighs look at me at first as if they did not think I 
belonged, and Ivinghoe was always so awfully polite that 
I thought he was laughing at me.” 

‘‘Ivinghoe must be horrid,” broke out Valetta. 

“ The Fitzhughs said they would knock it out of him 
at Eton,” returned Mysie. “ They got very nice after 
the first day, and said Fly and I were twice as jolly fellows 
as he was.” , 

It further appeared that Mysie had had plenty of part- 
ners at the ball, and on all occasions her full share of 
notice, the country neighbors welcoming her as her 
mother’s daughter, but most of them saying she was far 
more like her Aunt Phyllis than her own mother. The 
dancing and excitement so late at night had, however, 
tired her overmuch, she had cramp all the remainder of 
tlie night, could eat no breakfast the next day, and was 
quite miserable. 

“I should like to have cried for you, mamma,” she 
said, “ but they were all quite used to it, and not a bit 
tired. However, Cousin Florence came in, and she was so 
kind. She took me to the little west room, and made me 
lie on the sofa, and read to me till I went to sleep, and I 
was all right after dinner, and had a ride on Fly’s old 
pony. Dormouse. She has the loveliest new one, all bay, 
with a black mane and tail, called Fairy, but Alberta 
had that. Oh, it was so nice.” 

Altogether Lady Merrifield was satisfied that her little 
girl had not been spoiled for home by her taste of dissi- 
pation, though she did not hear the further confidence 
to Dolores in the twilight by the school-room fire. 

“ Do you know, Dolly, tliough Fly is such a darling, 
and they all wanted to be kind as well as they knew how, 
I came to understand how horrid you must have felt when 
you came among the whole lot of us.” 

“ But you knew Fly already?” 

“ That made it better, but I don’t like it. To feel one 


Mi 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


does not belong, and to be afraid to open a door for fear 
it should be somebody’s room, and not quite to know 
vvlio every one is. Oh, dear! it is enough to make any- 
body cross and stupid. Oh, I ani so glad to be back again.” 

“ I’m sure I am glad you are,” and tliere was a little 
kissing matcli. “ You’ll always come to my room, won’t 
you? Do you know, when Constance came to luncheon, 
1 only shook liands, 1 wouldn’t try to kiss her. AVas that 
unforgiving?” 

“ 1 am sure I couldn’t,” said Mysie; did she try?” 

I don’t think so; I don’t think 1 ever could kiss lier; 
for I never should have said what was not true without 
her, and that is what makes XJncle Eeginald so angry 
still. He would not kiss me even when he went away. 
Oh, Mysie! that’s worse than anything,” and Dolores’ face 
contracted with tears very near at hand. I did always 
so love Uncle Eegie, and he won’t forgive me, and father 
will be just the same.” 

Poor dear, dear Dolly,” said Mysie, hugging her. 

But you know fathers always forgive, and we will try 
and make a little prayer about it, like the Prodigal Son’s, 
yon know.” 

I don’t know pi^operly” said Dolores. 

“1 think I can say him , said Mysie, and the little girls 
sat with infolded arms, while Mysie reverently went 
through the parable. 

‘‘But he had been very wicked indeed,” objected Do- 
lores, “ what one calls dissipated. Isn’t that making 
too much of such things as girls like us can do.” 

“I don’t know,” said Mysie, knitting her young brows; 
“you see if we are as bad as ever we can be while we are 
home, it is really and truly as bad, in us ourselves, as in 
shocking people that run away, because it shows we might 
have done anything if we had not been taken care of. 
And the poor son felt as if he could not be pardoned, 
which is just what you do feel.” 

“Aunt Lily forgives me,” said Dolores, wistfully, 

“ And your father will. I’m sure,” said "^Mysie, 
“though he is yet a great way off. And as to Uncle 
Regie, I do wish something would happen that you could 
tell the truth about. If you had only broken the palm- 
tree instead of me, and I didn’t do right even about that! 
But if any mischief does happen, or accident, I promise 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


H5 


you, Dolly, you shall have the telling of it, if you have 
had ever so little to do with it, and tlien maniina will 
write to Uncle Regie that you have proved yourself truth- 

Dolores did not seem much consoled by this curious 
promise, and Mysie’s childisliness suddenly gave way to 
something deeper. “ I suppose,’’ she said, “if one is true, 
people find it out and trust one.” 

“ People can’t see into one,” said Dolly. 

“ Mamma says there is a bright side and a dark side 
from which to look at everybody and everything,” said 
Mysie. 

“ I know that,” said Dolores; I looked at the dark 
side of yon all when I came here.” 

“Some day,” said Mysie, “your bright side will come 
round to Uncle Regie, as it has to us, you dear, dear old 
Dolly.” 

“ But, do you know, Mysie,” whispered Dolores, in her 
embrace, “ there’s sometliing more dreadful that Pm very 
much afraid of. Do you know there hasn’t been a letter 
from father since ho was staying with Aunt Phyllis — not 
to me, nor Aunt Jane, nor anybody!” 

“ Well, he couldn’t write when he was at sea; I mean 
there wasn’t any })ost.” 

“It would not take so long as this to get to Fiji; and, 
besides. Uncle Rejrie telegraphed to ask about that dread- 
ful check, and there hasn’t been any answer at all.” 

“Perhaps he is gone about sailing somewhere in the 
Pacific Ocean; I heard Uncle William saying so to Cousin 
Rotherwood. He said, ‘Maurice is not a fellow to resist 
a cruise.’ ” 

“Then they are thinking about it; they are anxious.” 

“Not very,’^ said Mysie, “for they think he is sure to 
be gone on a cruise. They said something about his go- 
ing down like a carpenter into the deep sea.” 

“Making deep-sea soundings, like Dr. Carpenter! A 
carpenter, indeed!” said Dolores, laughing for a moment. 
“Oh! if it is that, I don’t mind.” 

The weight was lifted, but by and by, when the two 
girls said their prayers together, poor Dolores broke forth 
again, “Oh, Mysie, Mysie, your papa has all, all of yon, 
besides mamma, to pray that he may be kept safe, and my 
father has only me, only horrid me, to pray for him, and 


246 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


even I have never cared to do it really till just lately! 
Oil, poor, poor father! And suppose he should be 
drowned, and never, never have forgiven meP 

It was a trouble and misery that recurred night after 
niglit, though apparently it" weighed much less during 
the day — and nobody but Mysie knew how much Dolores 
was suffering from it. Lady Merri field was increasingly 
anxious as time went on, and still no mail brought letters 
from Mr. Mohun, but confidence based on his erratic habits, 
and the uncertainty of communication, began to fail. 
And as she grieved more for the possible loss, she became 
more and more tender to her niece, and strange to say, 
in spite of the terror that gnawed so achingly every night, 
and of the ordeal tha^t the Lent Assizes would bring, 
Dolores was happier and more peaceful than ever before 
at Silverton, and developed more of her bright side. 

‘‘ 1 really think, wrote Lady Merrifield to Miss Mohun, 
^niiat she is growing more simple and child-like, poor 
little maid. She is apparently free from all our appre- 
hensions about dear Maurice, and I would not inspire her 
with them for the world. Neither does she seem to dread 
the trial, as I do for her, nor to guess what cross-examina- 
tion may be. Constance Hacket has been subpoenaed, 
and her sister expatiates on her nervousness. It is one 
comfort that Reginald must be there as a witness, so that 
It is not in the power of Irish disturbances to keep him 
from us! May we only be at ease about Maurice by that 
timer 


CHAPTER XXL 

IN COURT AND OUT. 

How Dolores’ heart beat when Colonel Mohun drove 
up to the door! She durst not run out to greet him 
among her cousins; but stood by her aunt, feeling hot and 
cold and trembling, in the doubt whether he would kiss 
her. 

Yes, she did feel his kiss, and Mysie looked at her in 
congratrrlation. But what did it mean? Was it only 
that it came as a matter of course, and he forgot to with- 
hold it, or was it that he had given up hopes of her father, 
and was sorry for her? She could not make up her 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 247 

mind, for he came so late in the evening that she scarcely 
saw him before bed-time, and he did not take any special 
notice of her the next morning. He had done his best 
to save her from being long detained at Darminster, by 
ascertaining as nearly as possible when Flinders’s case 
would come on, and securing a room at the nearest inn, 
where she might await a summons into court. Lady 
Merrifield was going with them, but would not take either 
of her daughters, thinking that every home eye would be 
an additional distress, and- that it was better that no one 
should see or remember Dolores as a witness. 

Miss Mohun met the party at the station, going olf, 
however, with her brother into court, after having es- 
tablished Lady Merrifield and her niece in an inn parlor, 
where they kept as quiet as they could, by the help of 
knitting, and reading aloud. Lady Merrifield found that 
Dolores had been into court before, and knew enough 
about it to need no explanation or preparation, and being 
much afraid of causing agitation, she thought it best only 
to try to interest her in such tales as “^^Keale’s Trium})hs 
of the Cross,” instead of letting her dwell on what she 
most dreaded, the sight of the prisoner, and the punish- 
ment her words might bring upon him. 

The morning ended, and Uncle Reginald brought word 
that his case would come on immediately after luncheon. 
This he shared with his sister and niece, saying that Jane 
had gone to a pastry-cook’s with — with Rotherwood — 
thinking this best for Doily. He seemed to be in strangely 
excited spirits, and was quite his old self to Dolores, 
tempting her to eat, and showing himself so entirely the 
kind uncle that she would have been quite cheered up if 
she had not been afraid that it was all out of pity, and 
that he knew something dreadful. 

Lord Rotherwood met them at the hotel entrance, and 
took his cousin on his arm; Dolores following with her 
uncle, was sure that she gave a great start at soniething 
that he said; but she had to turn m a different direction 
to wait under the charge of her uncle, who treated her as 
if she were far more childish and inexperienced in the 
ways of courts than she really was, and instructed her in 
much that she knew perfectly well; but it was too com- 
fortable to have him kind to her for her to take the least 


248 ' 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


offense, and she only said '‘ Yes” and “Thank you” at 
the proper places. 

The sheriff, meantime, had given Lord Kothervvood and 
Lady Merrifield seats near the judge, where Miss Mohun 
was already installed. Alfred Flinders was already at the' 
bar, and for the first time Lady Merrifield saw his some- 
what handsome but shiftydooking face and red beard, as 
the counsel for the prosecution waS giving a detailed ac- 
count of his embarrassed finances, and of his having obtain- 
ed from the inexperienced kindness of a young lady, a mere 
child in age, who called him uncle, though without blood 
relationship, a draft of her father’s for seven pounds, 
which, when presented at the bank, had become one for 
seventy. 

As before, the presenting and cashing of the seventy 
pounds was sworn to by the banker’s clerk, and then 
Dolores Mary Mohun was called. 

There she stood, looking smaller than usual in her 
black, close-fitting dress and hat, in a jdace meant for 
grown people, her dark face pale and set, keeping her 
eyes as much as she could from the prisoner. When the 
counsel spoke she gave a little start, for she knew him 
as one who had often spent an evening with her parents, 
in the cheerful times while her mother lived. There was 
something in the familiar glance of his eyes that encour- 
aged her, though he looked so much altered by his wig 
and gown, and it seemed strange that he should question 
her, as a stranger, on her exact name and age, her fatlier’s 
absence, the connection with the prisoner, and present 
residence. Then came: 

“ Did your father leave any money with you?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ What was the amount?” 

“Five pounds for myself; seven besides.” 

“In what form was the seven pounds?” 

“ A check from W.’s bank.” 

Did you part with it?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ To whom?” 

“ I sent it to him.” 

“ 'J'o whom if you please?” 

“To Mr. Alfred Flinders.” And her voice trembled, 

“ Can you tell me when you sent it away?” 


249 


tHE two SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

'‘It was on the 22d of December.” 

“ Is this the check?” 

“ It has been altered.” 

“Expuiin in what manner?” 

“There lias ‘ty’ been put at the end of the written 
‘seven/ and a cipher after the figure 7 making it 70.” 

“ You are sure that it was not so when it went out of 
your possession?” 

“ Perfectly sure.” 

Mr. Calderwood seemed to have done with her, and said, 
“ Thank you;” but then there stood up a barrister, whom 
she suspected of being a man her mother had disliked, and 
she knew that the worst was coming when he said, in a 
specially polite voice too, “Allow me to ask whether the 
check in question had been intended by Mr. Mohun for 
the prisoner?” 

“No.” 

“ Or was it given to yon as pocket-money?” 

“No, it was to pay a bill.” 

“Then did you divert it from that purpose?” 

“ I thought the man was dead.” 

“ What man?’ 

“ Professor Muhlwasser.” 

“ The creditor?” 

“Yes.” 

;^^r. Calderwood objected to these questions as irrele- 
vant; but the prisoner’s counsel declared them to be es- 
sential, and the judge let him go on to extract from 
Dolores that the payment was intended for an expensive 
illustrated work on natural history, which was to be pub- 
lished in Germany. Her father had promised to take two 
copies of it if it were completed; but being doubtful 
whether this would ever be the case, he had preferred 
leaving a draft with her to letting the account be dis- 
charged by his brother, and he had reckoned that seven 
pounds would cover the expense. 

“ You say you supposed the author was dead. What 
reason had you for thinking so?” 

“ He told me; Mr. Flinders did.” 

“ Had Mr. Mohun sanctioned your applying this sum 
to any other purpose than that specified?” 

“No, he had not. I did wrong,” said Dolores, firmly. 

He wrinkled up his forehead, so that the point of his 


250 THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 

wig went upward, and proceeded to inquire whether she 
had herself given the check to the prisoner, 
sent it.” 

Did you post it?” 

‘‘Not myself. I gave it to Miss Constance Ilacket to 
send it for me.” 

“ Can you swear to the sum for which it was drawn 
when you parted with it?” 

“ Yes. I looked at it to see whether it was pounds or 
guineas.” 

“ Did you give it loose or in an envelope?” 

“In an envelope.” 

“ Was finy other person aware of your doing so?” 

“ Nobody.” 

“ What led you to make this advance to the prisoner?” 

“Because he told me that he was in great distress.” 

“ He told you. By letter or in person?” 

In person.” 

“ When did he tell you so?” 

“On the 22d of December.” 

“ And where?” 

“ At Darnminstc-r.” 

“Let me ask whether this interview at Darminster 
took place with the knowledge of the lady with whom you 
reside?” 

“ No, it did not,” said Dolores, coloring deeply. 

“ Was it a chance meeting?” 

“ No — by appointment.” 

“ How was the appointment made?” 

“ We wu’ote to say we would come that day.” 

“ We — who was the other party?” 

“ I\Iiss Constance Hacket.” 

“You were then in correspondence with the prisoner. 
Was it with the sanction of Ladv Merrifield?” 

“No.” 

“A secret correspondence, then, romantically carried 
on — by what means?” 

“ Constance Hacket sent the letters and received them 
for me.” 

“ What was the motive for this arrangement?” 

“I knew my aunt would prevent my having anything 
to do with him.” 


THE T\Vo SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 251 

And you — excuse me — what interest had you in doing 

so?’’ 

My mother had been like his sister, and always helped 
him.’^ 

All these answers were made with a grave, resolute 
straightforwardness, generally with something of Dolores’ 
peculiar stony look, and only twice was there any invol- 
untary token of feeling, when she blushed at confessing 
the concealment from her aunt, and at the last question, 
when her voice trembled as she spoke of her mother. She 
kept her eyes on her interrogators all the time, never once 
glancing toward the prisoner, though all the time she had 
a sensation as if his reproachful looks were piercing her 
through. 

She was dismissed, and Constance Hacket was brought 
in, looking about in every direction, carrying a handker- 
chief and scent bottle, and not attempting to conceal her 
flutter of agitation. 

Mr. Calderwood had nothing to ask her but about her 
having received the check from Miss Mohun and for- 
warded it to Flinders, though she could not answer for 
the date without a public computation back from Christ- 
mas Day, and forward from St. Thomas’s. As to the 
amount — 

“ Oh, yes, certainly, seven pounds.” 

Moreover she had posted it herself. 

Then came the cross-examination. 

Had she seen the draft before posting it?” 

‘‘Well — she really did not remember exactly.” 

How did she know the amount then?” 

“Well, I think — yes — I think Dolores told me so.” 

“You he said, in a sort of sneer. “On your 

oath. Do you know?” 

“ Yes, yes, yes. She assured me! I know something 
was said about seven.” 

“ Then you can not swear to the contents of the envel- 
0 })e you forwarded?” 

“ 1 don’t know. It was all such a confusion and hurry.” 

“ Why so?’ 

“ Oh! because it was a secret.” 

The counsel of course availed himself of this handle to 
elicit that the witness had conducted a secret correspond- 
ence between the prisoner and her young friend without 


' 262 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


the knowledge of the child's natural protectors. 
perfect romance,” he said; "‘I believe the prisoner is un- 
married.” 

Perhaps this insinuation would have been cliecked, but 
before any one had time to interfere, Constance, blushing 
crimson, exclaimed, ^‘Oh! Oli! I assure you that it was 
not that. It was because she said he was her uncle and 
that they ill-used him.” 

This brought upon her the searching question whether 
the last witness had stated the prisoner to be really her 
uncle, and Constance replied, rather hotly, that she had 
always understood that he was. 

in fact, she gave you to understand that the prisoner 
was actually related to her by blood. Did you say that 
she also told you that he was persecuted or ill-used by her 
other relations?” 

^‘1 thought so. Yes, I am sure she said so.” 

‘^And it was wholly and solely on these grounds that 
you assisted in this clandestine correspondence?” 

‘MVhy — yes — partly,” faltered Constance, thinking of 
her literary efforts, ^^so it began.” 

There was a manifest inclination to laugh in the 
audience, who naturally thought her hesitation implied 
something very different; and the judge, thinking that 
there was no need to push lier further, when Mr. Calder- 
wood represented that all this did not bear on the matter, 
and was no evidence, silenced Mr. Yokes, and the witness 
was dismissed. 

The next point was that Colonel Reginald Mohun was 
called upon to attest that the handwriting was his 
brother’s. lie answered for the main body of the draft, 
and the signature, but the additions, in which the forgery 
lay, were so slight that it was impossible to swear that 
they did not come from the hand of Maurice Mohun. 

Had application been made to Mr. Mohun on the 
subject?” 

“ Yes, Colonel Mohun had immediately telegraphed to 
him at the address in the Fiji Islands.” 

‘‘Has any answer been received?” 

“ No!” but Colonel Mohun had a curious expression in 
his eyes, and Mr. Calderwood electrified the court by beg- 
ging to call upon Mr. Maurice Mohun. 

There he was in the witness-box, looking sunburned but 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


253 


vigorous. He replied immediately to the question that 
the check was his own, and that it liad been left under 
his daugiiter’s charge, also that it had been for seven 
pounds, and the ty and the cypher liad never been written 
by him. The prisoner winced for a moment, and then 
looked at him defiantly. 

The connection with Alfred Flinders was inquired into 
and explained, and being asked as to the term Uncle,” 
he replied, My daughter was allowed to get into the 
habit of so terming him.” 

The sisters saw his look of pain, and Jane remembered 
his strong objection to the title, and his wife’s indignant 
defense of it. 

Dolores stood trembling outside in the waiting-room, 
by her Uncle "Reginald, from whom she heard that her 
father had come that morning from London with Lord 
Eotherwood, but that it had been tliought better not to 
agitate her by letting her know of it before she gave her 
evidence. 

Has he had my letter?” she asked. 

‘‘No; he knew nothing till he saw Eotherwood last 
night.” 

All the misery of writing the confession came back upon 
poor Dolores, and she turned quite white and sick, but 
her uncle said kindly, “Never mind, my dear, he was 
very much pleased with your manner of giving evidence. 
Sucii a contrast to your friend’s. Faugh!” 

In a few more seconds Mr. Mohun had come out. He 
took tlie cold, trembling hands in his own, pressed them 
close, met the anxious eyes with his own, full of moisture, 
and said, “ My poor tittle girl,” in a tone that somehow 
lightened Dolly’s heart of its worst dread. 

“ Will you go back into court?” asked the colonel. 

“ You don’t wish it, Dolly?” said her father. 

“Oh, no! please not.” 

“Then,” said the colonel, “ take your father back to 
the room at the hotel, and we will come to you. I sup- 
pose this will not last much longer.” 

“ Probably not half an hour. 1 don’t want to see that 
fellow either convicted or acquitted.” 

Then Dolores found herself steered out of the passages 
and from among the people waiting or gazing, into the 
clearer space in the street, her father holding her hand as 


254 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


if she had been a little child. Neither of them spoke till 
they had reached the sitting-room, and there, the first 
thing he did when the door was shut, was to sit down, 
take lier between his knees, put an arm round her, and 
kiss her, saying again, ‘‘My poor child!” 

“You never got my letter!” she said, leaning against 
him, feeling the peace and rest his embrace gave. 

“No; but I have heard all. I should have warned you, 
Dolly; but I never imagined that he could get at you 
there, and 1 was unwilling to accuse one for whom your 
mother had a certain affection.” 

“That was why I helped him,” whispered Dolores. 

“ I knew it,” he said, kindly. “ But how did he find 
you out, and how had he the impertinence to write to you 
at your Aunt Lily’s — ” 

“ I wrote to him first,” she said, hanging down her 
head. 

“ How was that? - You surely had not been in the habit 
of doing so whilst I was at home.” 

“ No: but he came and spoke to me at Exeter the day 
you went away. Uncle William was not there; he had 
gone into the town. And he — Mr. Flinders — said he^was 
going down to see you, and was very much disappointed 
to hear that you were gone.” 

Did he ask you to write to him?” 

“ I don’t think he did. Father, it seems too silly now, 
but I was very angry because Aunt Lilias said she must 
see all my letters except yours and Maude Sefton’s, and I 
told Constance Hacket. She said she would send any- 
thing for me, and I could not think of any one I wanted 
to write to, so 1 wrote to — to him.” 

“ Ah! 1 saw you did not get on with your aunt,” was the 
answer, “ that- was partly what brought me home.” And 
either not hearing or not heeding her exclamation, “Oh, 
but now I do,” he went on to explain that on his arrival 
at Fiji he had found that circumstances had altered there, 
and that the person with whom he was to have been asso- 
ciated had died, so that the whole scheme had been broken 
up. A still better appointment had,, however, been of- 
fered to him in New Zealand, on the resignation of the 
present holder after a half-year’s notice, and he had at 
once written to accept it. A proposal had been made to 
him to s^iend the intermediate time in a scientific cruise 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 255 

among the Polynesian Islands; but the letters he had 
found awaiting him at Vanua Levu had convinced him 
that the arrangements he had made in England had been 
a mistake, and he had therefore hurried home via San 
Francisco, as fast as any letter could have gone, to wind 
up his English affairs, and fetch his daughter to the per- 
manent home in Auckland, which her Aunt Phyllis would 
prepare for her. 

Her countenance betrayed a sudden dismay, which made 
him recollect that she was a strangely undemonstrative 
girl; but before she^had recovered the shock so as to ut- 
ter more than a long Oh!” they were interrupted by the 
cup of tea that had been ordered for Dolores, and in a 
minute more, steps were heard, and the two aunts were 
in the room. “ Seven years,” were Jane’s first words, 
and ‘‘ My dear Maurice,” Lady Merrifield’s, “ Oh! I wish 
I could have spared you this,” and then among greetings 
came again, Seven years,” from the brother and cousin 
who had seen the traveler before. 

“ Pm glad you were not there, Maurice,” said Lady 
Merrifield. “ It was dreadful.” 

^'1 never saw a more msolent fellow!” said LordRother- 
wood. 

^‘That Yokes, you mean,” said Miss Mohun. “I de- 
clare I think he is worse than Flinders!” 

‘^That’s like you women, Jenny,” returned the colonel; 
‘‘ you can’t understand that a man’s business is to get off 
his client!” 

“ When he gave him up as an honest man altogether!” 
cried Lady Merrifield. 

“And cast such imputations!” exclaimed Aunt Jane. 
“ I saw what the wretch was driving at all the time of the 
cross-examination; and if I’d been the judge, would not 
I have stopped him?” 

“There you go, Lily and Jenny!” said the colonel, 
“and Rotherwood just as bad! Why, Maurice would 
have had to take just the same line if he had been for the 
defense.” 

“ He would not have done it in such a blackguard fashion 
tliough,” said Lord Rotherwood. 

“ I saw what his defense would be,” said Mr. Mohun, 
briefly. 


256 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


There!” said Colonel Moluin, with a boyish pleasure 
in confuting his sisters; but they were not subdued. 

“Now, Maurice,” cried Jane, “when that man was 
known to be uttei^y dishonorable and good for nothing, 
was it fair — was it not contrary to all common sense — 
to try to cast the imputation between those two poor 
girls? So the judge and jury felt it, I am happy to say! 
but I call it abominable to have thrown, out the mere sug- 
gestion — ” 

“Nay, now, Jane,” said the colonel, “if the man was 
to be defended at all, how else was it to be done?” 

wouldn’t have had him defended at all! but, unfort- 
unately, that’s his right as an Englisliman.” 

“That’s another thing! But as the check did not 
alter itself, one of the three must have done it, and noth- 
ing was left but to show that there had been an amount 
of shuffling, and — in short, nonsense — tliat might cast 
enough doubt on their evidence to make it insufficient for 
a conviction.” 

“Eeginald ! I can’t think how you can stand up for 
such a wretch, a vulgar wretch,” cried Miss Mohun. 
“You put it delicately, as a gentleman who had the mis- 
fortune to be counsel in such a case might do, but he was 
infinitely worse than that, though that was bad enough.” 

“ It was Yokes,” put in Mr. Mohun; “but what did 
he say?” looking anxiously at his daughter. 

“It was not so bad about her,” said her uncle; “he 
only made her out a foolish child, easily played upon by 
everybody, and possibly ignorant and frightened, or led 
away by her regard for her suppposed relation. It was 
the other poor girl — ” 

“ The amiable susceptibilities of romantic young ladies!” 
broke out Lady Merrifield. “ Oh, the creature! To 
think of that poor foolish Constance sitting by to hear it 
represented that the expedition to Darminster, and all the 
rest of it, was because she was actually touched by that 
fellow. I really felt ready to take her part.” 

“She had certainly brought it on herself,” said Aunt 
Jane; “but it was atrocious of him, and if the other 
counsel had only known it, he stopped the cross-examina- 
tion just at the wrong time, or it would have come out 
that it was literary vanity that was the lure. No doubt 


THE TWO SIDES Ob' TH K SHIELD. 257 

be would luiYe made a laughing-stock of that, but it 
would not have been as bad as the other.” 

“Poor thing/’ said Lady Merrifield; ‘Mt was a trying 
retribution for school-girl folly and want of conscientious- 
ness. I sliould think she was a sadder and a wiser woman.” 

He must have overdone it,” said Mr. Moijun, “ lie is 
a vulgar fellow, and always does so; but, as Reginald says, 
the only available defense was to enhance the folly and 
sentiment of the girls: but of courge the judge charged 
the other way — ” 

‘‘ Entirely,” said Lord Rotherwood; he brought Dolly 
rather well out of it, saying that as he understood it, a 
young girl who had seen a needy connection assisted from 
her home might think herself justified in corresponding 
with him, and even in diverting to his use money left in 
her charge, when it was probable that it would not be re- 
quired for the original object. He did not say it was 
right, but it was an error of judgment by no means im- 
plying swindling — in fact. He disposed of Miss Hacket 
in the same way — foolish, sentimental, unscrupulous, but 
not to that degree. Girls might be silly enough in all 
conscience, but not so as to commit forgery or perjury. 
That was the gist of it, and happily the jury were of the 
same opinion.” 

‘‘Happily? Well, I suppose so,” said Mr. Mohun, 
with a certain sorrowfulness of tone, into which his little 
daughter entered. 

“Isay, Rotherwood,” exclaimed the colonel, as the 
town clock’s two strokes for the half-hour echoed loudly, 
“if you ?nean to catch the 4.50, you must fly.” 

“Fly!” he coolly repeated. “Tell Mysie, Lily, that 
Fly has never ceased talking of her. That child has been 
saving her monev to fit out one of Florence’s orphans. 
She—” 

“Rotherwood,” Jproke in Mr. Mohun, “your wife 
charged me to see that you were in time for that dinner. 
A ministerial one.” 

‘‘ Don’t encourage him, Lily,” chimed in the colonel. 
“I’ll call a cab. See him safe off, Maurice.” 

And off he was hunted amid the laughter of the ladies; 
the manner of all to one another was so exactly what it 
had been in the old times. 

“I could hardly help telling him to take care, or Vic- 

9 


258 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


toria would never lot him out again/’ said Miss Mohun. 
‘‘ Poor old fellow, it would have been a fine chance for 
him with four of us together,” 

You can come back with us, Jenny!” 

brought my bag in case of accidents.” 

And we’ll telegraph to Adeline to join us to-morrow,” 
said Mr. Mohun, who seemed to have been seized with a 
hunger for the sight of his kindred. 

^‘Telegraph! My dear Maurice, Ada’s nerves Avonld be 
torn to smithereens by a telegram without me to open it 
for her. I’ve a card here to post to her; but I expect that 
T must go down to-morrow and fetch her, which will be 
the best way, for I have a meeting.” 

‘‘Jenny, I declare you are a caution even to Miss 
Hackett,” said Colonel Reginald, re-entering. 

“ Well, Ada always was the family pet. Besides, I 
told you I had a G.F.S. meeting. Did you get a cab for 
us; Lily has had quite walking enough.” 

The ladies went in a cab, while the gentlemen walkel. 
There was not much time to spare, and in the compart- 
ment into which the first comers threw themselves, they 
found both the Hacket sisters installed, and the gentle- 
men coming up in haste, nodded and got into a smoking- 
carriage, on seeing how theirs was occupied. 

“ Oh, we could have made room,” said Constance, to 
whom a gentleman was a gentleman under whatever cir- 
cumstances. 

“Dear Miss Dolores’ papa! Is it indeed?” said Miss 
Hacket. 

“So wonderfully interesting,” chimed in Constance. 
And they both made a dart at Dolores to kiss her in con- 
gratulation, much against her will. 

The train clattered on, and Lady Merri field hoped it 
would hush all other voices, but neither of the Hackets 
could refrain from discussing the tri^l, and heaping such 
unmitigated censure on the counsel for the prisoner, that 
Miss Mohun felt herself constrained to fly in the face of 
all slie had said at the hotel, and to maintain the right of 
even such an Englishman to be defended, and of his ad- 
vocate to prevent his conviction if possible. On which 
the regular sentiment against becoming lawyers was pro- 
duced, and the subject might have been dropped if Con- 
stance had not broken out again, as if she could not leave 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


259 


it. So atrocious, so abominably insolent, asking if be 
was unmarried.” 

“Evidently flattered!” muttered Aunt Jane, between 
her teetli, and unheard; but the speed slackened, and 
Constance’s voice went on. 

“ I really thought I should have died of it on the spot. 
The bare ideaof thinking I could endure such a being.” 

“ Well,” said Dolores, just as the clatter ceased at a lit- 
tle station, “you know you did walk up and down with 
liini ever so long, and I am sure you liked him very 
much.” 

An indignant “You don’t understand ” was absolutely 
cut off by an imperative grasp and hush from Miss Racket 
the elder; Aunt Jane was suffocating with laughter. Lady 
Merrifield, between that and a certain shame for woman- 
hood, which made her begin to talk at random about any- 
thing or everything else. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

“ What a mull they have made of it!” were Mr. Maurice 
Mohun’s first words when he found the comptirtment free 
for a tete-a-tite with his brother. 

“ All’s well that ends well,” was the brief reply. 

“Well, indeed! Mary would not have thought so.” 
To which the colonel had nothing to say. 

“It serves me out,” his brother went on presently. “ I 
ought to have done something for that wretched fellow 
before I went, or, at any rate, have put Dolly on her 
guard; but I always shirked the very thought of him.” 

“Nothing would have kept him out of harm’s way.” 

“ It might have kept the child; but she must have been 
thicker with him than I ever knew. How’evei’, I shall 
have her with me for the future, and in better hands.” 

“ You really mean to take her out:” 

“That’s what brought me home. She isn’t happy; 
that is plain from her letters; and Jane does not know 
what to make of her, nor Lilias either.” 

“ W^hen were your lastTetters dated?” 

“ The last week in September.” 


260 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD, 


Early days,” muttered the colonel. 

“ I tlionght it an experiment, you know; but you said 
so mncli about Lily’s girls being patterns, that I thouglit 
Jasper Merrifield might have made her more rational and 
less flighty, and all that sort of thing; but of course it was 
a very different tone from what the child was used to, and 
yon couldn’t tell what the young barbarians were out of 
sight.” 

So I began to think last winter; but I fancy you will 
find that she and Lily understand one another a good deal 
better than they did at first.” 

thought she did not receive my intelligence as a de- 
liverance. I am glad if she can carry away an affection- 
ate remembrance, but 1 want to have her under my own 
eyes.” 

I suppose that’s all right,” was the half reluctant 
reply. 

There’s Phyllis. She is full of good sense, with no 
nonsense about her or May, and her girls are downright 
charming.” 

Very likely; but I say, Maurice, you must not under- 
rate Lilias. She has gone through a good deal with Do- 
lores, and I believe she has been the making of her. You’ve 
had to leave the poor child a good deal to herself and 
Fraulein, and, as you see by this affair, she had some 
ways that made it hard for Lily to deal with her at first.” 

Her father plainly did not like this. Tliere was no 
harm in the poor child, but as I should have foreseen, 
there’s always an atmosphere of sentiment and ritual and 
flummery about Lilias, totally different from what she was 
used to.” 

Colonel Mohun had nearly said, So much the better,” 
but turned it into, I think you will change your opin- 
ion.” 

Brothers and sisters and cousins, whatever they may be 
to the external world, always remain relatively to each 
other pretty much as they knew one another when a 
single home held them all. The familiar Christian names 
seemed to revive the old ways, and it was amusing to see 
the somewliat grave and silent colonel treated by liis elder 
brother as the dashing, heedless boy, needing to" be looked 
after, while his sister Jane remained the ready helper and 
counselor, and Lady j\[errifield was still in his eyes the 


THP3 TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


261 


unpractical, fanciful Lily with an unfortunately suggestive 
rhyme to her name. 

Perliaps it maintained him in this opinion, that when 
he had answered all questions about Captain and Mrs. 
Harry May, and had dilated on their pretty house in the 
suburbs of Auckland, his sisters expected him to tell of 
tlie work of the Church among tlie Maoris and Fijians. 
He laughed at them for thinking colonists troubled tiieir 
heads about natives. 

I know Phyllis does. One of Harry May’s brothers 
went out as a missionary.” 

Disenchanted and came home again when his wife 
came into a fortune.” 

Hot a bit of it,” said Anne Jane. I know him and 
all about him. He stayed till his health broke, and now 
he is one of the most usMul men in the country. He is 
coming to speak for the S.P.G. at Pockquay,*Lily; and 
you must come and meet him and his charming wife. 
Tliey will tell you a very different story about Harry’s do- 
ings.” 

Well,” allowed Mr. Mohun, there are apparitions of 
brown niggers done up as smart as twopence prancing 
about the house. Perfectly uninteresting, you know, the 
savage sophisticated out of his pictuiesqueness. I made 
a point of asking no questions, not knowing what I might 
be let in for.” 

Then you heard nothing of Mr. Ward, the Mela- 
nesian missionary, whom Phyllis keeps a room for wlien 
he comes to Hew Zealand to recruit?” 

‘‘ The man who was convicted of murder on circum- 
stantial evidence! Oh, yes, I heard of him. I believe 
the labor-traffic agents heartily wish him at Portland still, 
he makes the natives so much too sharp.” 

^^Ay,” said the colonel, ‘Lis long as Britons aren’t 
slaves tliey have no objection to anything but the name 
for other people.” 

Wait till you get out there, Kegie, and see what they 
all say about those lazy fellows — except, of course, ladies 
and parsons, and a. few whom they’ve bitten, like May.” 

“ The few are on the Christian side, of course,” said 
Lady Merrifield, with irony in her tone. 

Indeed, she was not at all sure that half this colonial 
prejudice was not assumed in order to tease her, just as 


262 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


ill former tir^ies her brother would make game of her en- 
thusiasms about school-children; for he was altogether re- 
turned to his old self, his sister Jane, who had seen the 
most of him, testifying that the original i\raurice had re- 
vived. as never in the course of his married life. 

Doloi es tried to forget or disbeheve the words she had 
heard about his having come to fetch her away, and said 
no word about them until they had been unmistakably re- 
peated. Then she felt a sort of despair at the idea of be- 
ing separated from her aunt and Mysie, for, indeed, they 
had penetrated to affections deeper than had ever been 
consciously stirred in her before. Yet she was old enough 
to shrink from allowing to her father that she preferred 
staying with them to going with him, and it was to her 
Aunt Jane that she had recourse. That lady, after return- 
ing from her expedition to briip^ her sister Adeline to 
Silverton, was surprised by a timid knock at the door, and 
Dolores^ entrance. 

Oh, if you please. Aunt Jane, may I come in? I do 
so want to speak to you alone. Don’t you think it is a 
sad pity that I should go away from the Cambridge exam- 
ination? Could not you tell my father so?” 

‘‘Yon want to stay for the Cambridge examination?” 
said Aunt Jane, a little amused at the manner of touch- 
ing on the subject, though sorry fc r the girl. 

“I have been taking great pai is under Miss Vincent, 
and it does seem a pity to miss it.” 

“I don’t think it will make miudi difference to you.” 

“Oh, but I do want to be thoroughly w'ell educated. I 
meant to go through them all, like Gillian and Mysie, 
and I am sure father must wish it too. I know he meant 
it when he went out last year.” 

“Yes, he did.” said Miss Mohnn. “It was very un- 
lucky that he did not get any of our later letters.” 

“ I have tried to tell him that it is all different now, 
but he does not seem to care,” said Dolores. 

“He has quite made up his mini,” said her aunt. 

“ Has he quite?” said Dolores. “I thought perhaps if 
you talked to him about the examination and the con- 
firmation too — ” 

“But, Dolly, you are not going to a heathen country. 
Your confirmation will be as much attended to in NeV 
Zealand as liere,” 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 363 

‘‘Oil, but I should b.) confirmed witli Mysie, and Aunt 
Lily would read with me, and help me!” 

“ Yes, I see.” 

“Do please tell him. Aunt Jane. He heeds what you 
say more than any one. Do tell him that the only hope 
of my being good is if I stay with Aunt Lily just these 
few years!” 

“ Ah, Dolly, that is v/hat you really mean and care about 
— not the Cambridge business.” 

“Of course it is. Piease tell him. Aunt Jane — some- 
how I can’t — that I was bad and foolish when I wrote all 
the letters he had; but now I know better, and — and — I 
don’t want to vex him, but I shall be ever so much better 
a daughter to him if he will leave me with Aunt Lily, to 
learn some of her goodness” — and there were tears in her 
eyes, for these months had softened her greatly. 

“ My poor Dolly!” said Aunt Jane, much more tender- 
ly than she generally s])oke. “I am very sorry for you. 

I do think Aunt Lily has been the making of you, and that 
it is very hard that you should have to be uprooted from 
her, just as you had learned to value her. I will tell your 
father so; but honestly, I do not think it is likely to make 
him change his mind.” 

Miss Mohun sought her brother out the next day, and 
told him that they had all been waiting in patience when 
thinking that his daughter’s residence at Silverton was an 
unsuccessful experiment. The explosion she had pre- 
dicted had come, and Dolores had been a different creat- 
ure ever since, owing to Lady IMerrifield’s management of 
her in the crisis; and she added that the girl was most 
unwilling to leave her aunt, and that she herself thought 
it would be much better to leave her for a few years to 
the advantages of her present training, where her affec- 
tions had been gained. Mr. Mohun could not see it in 
the same light. The intimacy with Constance Hacket 
was in his eyes a folly, consequent on his sister’s passion 
for Sunday schools and charities; and Jane, being infect- 
ed with the like ardor, he disregarded her explanations. 
The underhand corresj'ondence could not have been car- 
ried on without great blindness and carelessness, or, at 
least, injudiciousness, on Lady Merrifield’s part, and 
there was no denying that she had trusted to a sense of 
honor that was non-existent. Nor did he appreciate 


THE T\\0 SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


2G4: 


Janets argument that the conquest of the heart and will 
had thus been far more thoroughly gained than it would 
have been by constant thwarting and watching. It was 
hard to forgive such an exposure as had taken place, or to 
believe that it had not been brought about by unjustifi- 
able errors, more especially as Lady Merrifield was the 
first to accuse herself of them. Moreover, he had become 
sensible of a strong natural yearning for the presence of 
his only cliild, and he had been so much struck with his 
sister Phyllis’s family that he sincerely believed himself 
consulting the girl’s best interests. He was by no means 
an irreligious or ungodly man, but he had always thought 
his sister Lilias mo]-e or less of an enthusiast, and he did 
not wish to see Dolores the same. Perhaps, indeed, the 
poor child’s manliest clinging to her aunt and cousins 
made him all the n.ore resolute to remove her before her 
affection should be entirely weaned from himself. 

He made his headquarters at Silverton, and during the 
next two months modified his opinions so far as to confess 
to his sister Jane that Lilias was a much more sensible 
woman than he had believed her, and had her children 
well in hand. He even allowed that Dolores was im- 
proved, and owed much to her kindness; and when the 
first sting of the exposure was over, he could see that 
the treatment had been far more injudicious as regarded 
the girl’s own character. He was even glad that warm 
love and friendship had grown up toward her aunt and 
cousins; but all this left his purpose unchanged; although, 
after the first, nothing was said about it, Dolores tried to 
forget it, and hoped that the sight of her going on well 
and peaceably would convince him of the inexpediency of 
disturbing her. She could not even mention it to Mvsie, 
lest the dread should become a reality by being uttered. 
So no more passed on the subject till it became necessary 
to take her outfit in band, and he also wished to take her 
to Beechcroft, that the old family home which he regarded 
with fresh tenderness might be impressed on her memory. 

Then, though she never durst directly oppose the fate 
which lie destined lor her, she surprised him by a violent 
burst of tears and sobbing, and an entreaty that he would 
not take her away from Aunt Lily and Mysie a moment 
sooner than could be helped. 

She clung to everything, even to the guinea-pigs, and 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD, 265 

she was the Brst in the Easter holidays to beg for the 
‘‘Thorn Fortress.’’ Indeed, Mysie was a little shocked 
at her grief, as disloyal and nnfilial. “ One ought not to 
mind going anywhere with one’s fathci*,” she said; “we 
always thought it a great honor for Phyllis and Alethea.” 

“They are grown up!” said Doloies, “and Aunt Lily 
does get into one so! Oh, don’t say there’s Aunt Phyllis, 
I hate the very name of her.” 

“She must be nice,” said Mysie. “Whenever the 
‘grown-ups’ are pleased with me they say I am getting 
like her, as if it were the best thing one could be.” 

“ But I don’t want Mysie old and grown-up, I want 
my Mysie now, as you are! And you’ll forget and leave 
off writing, like Maude Sefton.” 

“Never!” cried Mysie. “Right across the world you 
will always be my own twin cousin.” 

The wishes of the girl were so far fulfilled that Lady 
Merrifield took her to London to provide her outfit, and 
Mysie accompanied them. A room and its dressing- 
room received the three at old Mrs. Merrifield’s, and 
the two cousins thought their close quarters ineffably 
precious. 

Mysie was introduced to Maude Sefton, who seemed 
entirely unconscious of her treachery to friendship. “ One 
had so" little time, and couldn’t always be writing,” she 
said, when Dolores reproached lier; “exercises were 
enough to tire out one’s hand!” 

They also drank tea with Lady Phyllis Devereux and 
her governess. Fly could not pour forth questions and 
reminiscences fast enough about all the beloved animals 
at Silverton, not forgetting the little G.F.S. nursemaid, 
for whom she had actually made an apron in her plain- 
work lessons. Moreover, she deemed Dolores’ fate most 
enviable, to be going off with her fatlier to strange coun- 
tries, away from lessons and masters and towns. It 
would be almost as good as Leila on the island. 

As to tlie Beechcroft visit, Mr. and Mrs. Mohun col- 
lected all the brothers and sisters in England there for a 
week, and still Mysie and Dolores were allowed to be to- 
gether, squeezed into a corner of Lady Merrifield’s room. 
It was high summer, bright and glowing, and so dry. 
and even the invalidish sisters. Lady Plenry Dray and 


266 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


Miss Adeline Molinn could not object to the sitting out 
on the lawn, among the dragon-flies, as in days of yore. 

Much of old thought and feeling was then and there 
taken up again, and it was on one of the last evenings of 
the visit that Mr. Mohun, walking up and down the alley 
witi) Lady Merri6eld, said: 

Well, Lily, 1 think niy determination to take Dolly 
a way was hasty. I can not leave her now, bnt if I had 
understood all tliat I see at preseiit, I should have been 
both content and grateful to have her among your children. 
I am afraid I have been ungracious.” 

“ I never thought so, Maurice. It is quite right that 
she should be with you, and Phyllis will do everything 
for her mucli better than I.” 

Poor child! I believe she is very sorry to go,” said 
Mr. ]\[oliun; but, at any rate, she will remember Silver- 
ton as, I hope, a lasting influence on her life.” 

Dolores truly believed that so it would be, and that her 
aunt’s guidance would be always looked back upon as the 
turning-point of her life. 

‘‘ It is my own fault,” she said, as on the last night 
she clung tearfully to Lady Merrifleld; ‘‘if I had be- 
haved better I might have gone on just like one of your 
own.” 

“ You will still be in my heart like one of my own, 
dear child,” said Lady Merrifleld. “ We know the way 
in wdiich we all can hold together as one; keep to that, 
and the distance apart will matter the less,” 

And as they watched Dolores and her father driven 
away to the statioiythe next morning, Jane Mohun laid 
lier hand on her sister’s arm and said, “ You thought you 
had made a great failure, Lily, but is not the other side 
of a failure often a success?” 

By and by came letters from Dolores. She seemed 
after the first to have enjoyed her journey, for, as she 
wrote to Lady Merrifleld, in a letb'r, very private, and all 
to her own self, “Father was so very good and kind to 
me, I don’t know how to tell you. It was as if a little 
bit of mother had got into him, and now I am here I 
think I shall like the Mays. Indeed, I am trying to re- 
member your advice, and not beginning by hating every- 
body and tliinking who they are not. Aunt Phyllis es 
very nice indeed, and sometinies her eyes and mouth get 


THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD. 


267 


like Mysie’s, and her voice is just exactly yours. Only 
she is plump and roundabout, not a dear, tall, graceful 
figure like my White Lily Aunt. Please don’t call it non- 
sense, for indeed I mean it, and Aunt Phyllis does like 
your photograph so much. I have the whole group hung 
up in my room, and you over it, and I wish you all good- 
morning every day, for I never, never, as long as I live, 
shall love anybody like you and Mysie.” 


THE END. 


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388 Addie’s Husband; or, Through 


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504 My Poor Wife 10 


Mistake.” 

244 A Great Mistake 20 

24(5 A Fatal Dower 10 

372 Phyllis’ Probation 10 

4G1 His Wedded Wife 20 

Mrs. Alexander’s Works. 

5 The Admiral’s W^ard.... 20 

17 The Wooing O’t 20 

62 The Executor 20 

189 Valerie’s Fate 10 

229 Maid, Wife, or Widow? 10 

236 Which Shall it Be? 20 

339 Mi s. Vereker’s Courier Maid. . . 10 
490 A Second Life 20 

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278 For Life and Love 10 

481 The House That Jack Built 10 


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59 Vice Versa, 

225 The Giant’s Robe 

603 The Tinted Venus. A Farcical 
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R. M. Ballantj'ue’s Works. 

8{' The Red Eric 

95 The Fire Brigade 

96 Erling the Bold.....^, 

Anne Beale’s Works. 

188 Idonea 

199 The Fisher Village 

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844 “ The Wearing of the Green 
647 A Coquette’s Conquest. ^ , 


Walter Besant’s Works. 

97 All in a Garden Fair.... 20 

137 Uncle Jack 10 

140 A Glorious Fortune 10 

146 Love Finds the Way, and Other 

Stories. By Besaut and Rice 10 

230 Dorothy Forster 20 

824 In Luck at Last 10 

William Black’s Works. 

1 Yolande, 20 

18 Shandon Bells 20 

21 Sunrise : A Story of These 

Times 20 

23 A Princess of Thule 20 

89 In Silk Attire 20 

44 Macleod of Dare 20. 

49 That Beautiful Wretch 20 

50 The Strange Adventures of a 

Phaeton 20 

70 White Wings: A Yachting Ro- 
mance 10 

78 Madcap Violet 20 

81 A Daughter of Heth ,20 

124 Three Feathers 20 

125 The Monarch of Mincing Lane. 20 

126 Kilmeny 20 

138 Green Pastures and Piccadilly. 20 
265 Judith Shakespeare : Her Love 


Affairs and Other Adventures 20 
472 The Wise Women of Inverness. 10 

R. D. Blackmore’s Works. 

67 Lorna Doone 3(5 

427 The Remarkable History of Sir 
Thomas Upmore, Bart., M. P. 20 

Miss M. E. Braddon’s Works. 

35 Lady Audley’s Secret 2G 

56 Phantom Fortune 2(s 

74 Aurora Floyd 20 

110 Under the Red Flag 10 

153 The Golden Calf 20 

20 


20 

20 

10 


10 

10 

10 

20 

10 


”.. 20 
. . . . 20 1 204 Vixeo 


THE SEASIDE LIBRAltT.- Pocket Edition. 


itliss 31. E. Braddon’s Works— 


Continued. 

211 The Octhroon 10 

^14 Barhura; or, Splendid Misery.. SO 

2C3 An Ishmaelite 20 

315 Tlie Mistletoe Bough. Edited 

by Miss Braddon 20 

434 W.y Hard's Weird 20 

478 Diavola; or, Nobody’s Daugh- 
ter. Parti. 20 

478 Diavola; or, Nobody’s Daugh- 
ter. Pcirt IT. 20 

480 Married in Haste. Edited by 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

487 Put to the Test. Edited by Miss 

M. 1C. Braddon 20 

488 .Joshua Haggard's Daughter 20 

489 Rupert Godwin 20 

495 Mount Royal 20 

496 Only a Woman. Edited by Miss 

M.E. Braddon 20 

497 Tlie Lady’s Mile 20 

498 Only a Clod 20 

499 The Clov’^en Foot.... 20 

511 A Strange World 20 

515 Sir Jasper’s Tenant 20 

524 Strangers and Pilgrims 20 

529 The Doctor’s Wife 20 

542 Fenton’s Quest 20 

544 Cut b}”- the County; or, Grace 

Dainel 10 

548 The Fatal Marriage, and The 

Shadow in the Corner 10 

549 Dili i ley Carleon ; or. The Broth- 

er’s Secret, and George Caul- 
field’s Journey 10 

552 Hostages to Fortune 20 

.553 Birds of Prey 20 

554 Charlotte’s inheritance. (Se- 
quel to “ Birds of Prey ”).... 20 

557 To the Bitter End 20 

.559 Taken at the Flood 20 

560 Asphodel 20 

661 J ust as I am ; or, A Living Lie 20 

Works by Charlotte 31. Braeiiie, 
Author of “Dora Thorne.” 

19 Her Mother’s Sin 10 

51 Dora Thorne 20 

54 A Broken Wedding-Ring 20 

68 A Queen Amongst Women 10 

69 Madoliu’s Lover 20 

73 Redeemed by Love 20 

76 ’\Vife in Name Only 20 

79 AVedded and Parted 10 

92 Lord Lynne’s Choice 10 

148 Thorns and Orange-Blossoms.. 10 

190 Romance of a Black Veil 10 

220 Which Loved Him Best? 10 

2.37 Repented at Leisure 20 

249 “ Prince Charlie’s Daughter ”. . 10 

250 Sunshine and Roses; or, Di- 

ana’s Discipline 10 

254 The Wife’s Secret, and Fair 

but False 10 

283 The Sin of a Lifetime 10 

287 At War With Herself 10 

288 From Gloom to Sunlight 10 


291 Love’s Warfare 10 

292 A Golden Heart 10 

293 The Sliadow of a Sin 10 

294 Hilda 10 

295 A Woman’s War 10 

296 k Rose in Thorns 10 

297 Hilary’s Folly 10 

299 The Fatal Lilies, and A Bride 

from the Sea 10 

300 A Gilded Sin, and A Bridge of 

Love 10 

303 Ingledew House, and More Bit- 

ter than Death 10 

304 In Cupid’s Net 10 

305 A Dead Heart, and Lady Gwen- 

doline’s Dream 10 

306 A Golden Dawn, and Love for 

a Day 10 

307 Two Kisses, and Like no Other 

Love 10 

308 Beyond Pardon 20 

411 A Bitter Atonement 20 

433 My Sister Kate 10 

459 A Woman’s Temptation 20 

460 Under a Shadow 20 

465 The Earl’s Atonement 20 

466 Between Two Loves 20 

467 A Struggle for a Ring 20 

469 Lady Darner’s Secret 20 

470 Evelyn’s Folly 20 

471 Thrown on the World 20 

476 Between Two Sins 10 

516 Put Asunder ; or. Lady Castle- 

maine’s Divorce 20 

Charlotte Bronte’s Works. 

15 Jane E 3 ’re 20 

57 Shirley 20 

Rhoda Broughton’s Works. 

86 Belinda 20 

101 Second Thoughts 20 

227 Nancy ^ 

Robert Buchanan’s Works. 

145 “ Storm-Beaten God and The 

Man 20 

154 Annan Water 20 

181 The New Abelard 10 

398 Matt: A Tale of a Caravan 10 

Captain Fred Burnaby’s Works. 

.375 A Ride to Khiva 20 

384 On Horseback iThrough Asia 
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E. Fairfax Byrrne’s Works. 

521 Entangled 20 

538 A Fair Country JIaid 20 

Hall Caine’s Works. 

445 The Shadow of a Crime 20 

520 She’s All the World to Me 10 

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215 Not Lika Other Girls 20 

396 Robert Ord’s Atonement 20 

551 BarbSfcra Heathcote’s Trial 20 


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Wilkie Collins’s Works. 


53 The New Magdalen 10 

102 The Moonstone. 20 

lOr Heart and Science 20 

168 No Thoroughfare. By Dickens 

and Coilins., 10 

175 Love's liandom Shot 10 

233 “ I Say No;” or, The Love-Let- 
ter Answered 20 

608 The Girl at the Gate 10 


Hugh Conway’s Works. 

240 Called Back.... 10 

251 The Daughter of the Stars, and 
Other Tales 10 

301 Dark Days ....... 10 

302 The Blatchford Bequest 10 

602 Carriston's Gift 10 

625 Paul "Vargas, and Other Stories 10 
543 A Family Affair.... 20 


J. Fenimore Cooper’s Works. 


60 The Last of the Mohicans 20 

63 The Spy .... ^ 

309 Tlie Pathfinder... ^ 

310 The Praii ie ^ 

318 The Pioneers; or. The Sources 

of the Susquehanna 20 

849 The Two Admirals. A Tale Of 

the Sea 20 

359 The Water-Witch 20 

361 The Red Rover. A Tale of the 

Sea 20 

S73 Wing and Wing 20 

378 Homeward Bound; or, The 
Chase 20 


879 Home as Found. (Sequel to 


“Homeward Bound”) 20 

880 Wyandotte; or. The Hutted 

Knoll 20 

385 The Headsman ; or, The Ab- 

baye des Vignerons 20 

894 The Bravo... 20 

897 Lionel Lincoln; or. The Leag- 
uer of Boston 20 

400 The Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish... 20 

413 Afloat and Ashore 20 

414 Miles Wallingford. (Sequel to 

“Afloat and Ashore”) 20 

415 The Ways of the Hour 20 

416 Jack'I'ier; or. The Florida Reef 20 

419 TheChainbearer; or,The Little- 

page Manuscripts 20 

420 Satanstoe; or. The Littlepage 

Manuscripts 20 

421 The Redskins; or, Indian and 

Injin. Being the conclusion 
of the Littlepage Manuscripts 20 

422 Precaution 20 

423 The Sea Lions; or. The Lost 

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434 Mercedes of (Castile; or. The 

Voyage to Cathay 20 

425 The Oak-Openings ; or. The Bee- 

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Ths y*. 20 


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207 Pretty Miss Neville 20 

260 Proper Pride 10 

412 Some One Else 20 


Charles Dickens’s Works. 

10 The Old Curiosity Shop 20 

22 Da\ d Copperfield. Vol. 1 20 

22 David Copperfield. Vol. II 20 

24 Pickwick Papers. Vol. 1 20 

24 Pickwick Papers. Vol. II 20 

37 Nicholas Nickleby. First half. 20 
37 Nicholas Nickleby. Second half 20 

41 Oliver Twist.... 20 

77 A Tale of Two Cities ^ 

84 Hard Times 10 

91 Barnaby Rudge '. .. 20 

94 Ijittle Dorrit. First half 20 

94 Little Dorrit. Second half 20 

106 Bleak House. First half 20 

106 Bleak House. Second half.... ^ 

107 Dombey and Son 40 

108 The Cricket on the Hearth, and 

Doctor Marigold 10 

131 Our Mutual Friend 40 

132 Master Humphrey’s Clock 10 

152 Thp Uncommercial Traveler. .. 20 

168 No Thoroughfare. B3" Dickens 

and Collins 10 

169 The Haunted Man 10 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 

Chuzzlewit. First half 20 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 

Chuzzlewit. Second half 20 

439 Great Expectations 20 

440 Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings 10 

447 American Notes 20 

448 Pictures From Italy, and The 

Mud fog Papers. &c 20 

4.54 The Mystery of Edwin Drood.. 20 

456 Sketches by Boz. Illustrative 
of Every-day. Life and Every- 
day People 20 


F. Du Boisgobey’s VVorks. 

82 Sealed Lips 2( 

104 The Coral Pin 30 

264 Piedouche, a French Detective. 10 
328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. 

First half 2C 

328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. 

Second half 20 

453 The Lottery Ticket 20 

475 The Prima Donna’s Husband.. 20 

522 Zig-Zag, the Clown; or. Steel 

Gauntlets.. 2C 

523 The Consequences of a Duel. A 

Parisian Romance 2L 


**The Duchess’s” Works. 


2 Molly Bawn 20 

6 Portia . 20 

14 Airy Fairv Lilian... 10 

16 Phyllis 20 

25 Mrs. Geoffrey 20 

29 Beauty’s Daughters 1(1 

30 Faith and Unfaith 2(i 

118 Loys, Lord Berresford, and 

EricDeyjn^.v 19 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.— PoM Ediiion. 


“ The Duchess’s” Works— Con- 


tinued. 

119 Monica, and A Rose Distill’d. . . 10 

123 Sweet is True Love 10 

129 Rossinoyne 10 

134 Tile Witching Hour, and Other 

Stories 10 

136 “That Last Rehearsal,” and 

Otlier Stories 10 

166 Moonshine and Marguerites — 10 

171 Fortune’s Wheel 10 

284 Doris 10 

312 A Week in Killarney 10 

342 The Baby, and One New Year’s 

Eve 10 

390 Mildred Trevanion 10 

404 In Durance Vile, and Other 

Stories 10 

486 Dick’s Sweetheart 20 

494 A Maiden All Forlorn, and Bar- 
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617 A Passive Crime, and Other 

Stories 10 

641 “As It Fell Upon a Day.” 10 

Alexander Dumas’s Works. 

55 The Three Guardsmen 20 

75 Twenty Years After 20 

259 The Bride of Monte-Cristo. A 
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Monte-Cristo ” 10 

262 The Count of Monte-Cristo. 

1^3/1*11 1 20 

262 The Count of Monte-Cristo. 
Part II 20 

George Eliot’« Works, 

3 The Mill on the Floss 20 

31 Middlemarch 20 

34 Daniel Deronda 30 

36 Adam Bede 20 

42 Rornola 20 

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193 The Rosery Folk 10 

558 Poverty Corner 20 

Octave Feuillet’s Works. 

66 The Romance of a Poor Young 

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*86 Led Astray: or, “La Petite 
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Mrs. Forrester’s Works. 

80 June 20 

J80 Omnia Vanitas. A Tale of So- 
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484 Although He Was a Lord, and 
Other Tales 10 

R. E. Francillon’s Works. 

135 A Great Heiress: A Fortune 

in Seven Checks 10 

819 Face to Face: A Fact in Seven 

Fables 10 

Ropes of Sand 20 


EiiiUe Gaboriau’« Works. 

7 File No. 113 20 

12 Other People’s Money 20 

20 Within an Inch of His Life.... 20 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. VoII 20 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. Vol. II 20 

33 The Clique of Gold 10 

38 The Widow Lerouge 20 

43 The Mystery of Orcival 20 

144 Promises of Mfirriage 10 

Charles Gibbon’s Works. 

64 A Maiden Fair 10 

317 By Mead and Stream 20 

Miss Grant’s Works. 

222 The Sun-Maid 20 

555 Cara Roma 20 

Thomas Hardy’s Works. 

139 The Romantic Adventures of 

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530 A Pair of Blue Eyes 20 

John B. Harwood’s Works. 

143. One False, Both Fair 20 

358 Within the Clasp 20 

Mary Cecil Hay’s Works. 

65 Back to the Old Home 10 

72 Old Myddelton’s Mone}’ 20 

196 Hidden Perils 10 

197 For Her Dear Sake 20 

224 The Arundel Motto 10 

281 The Squire's Legacy 20 

290 Nora’s Love Test 20 

408 Lester’s Secret 20 

Works by the Author of ** Judith 
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332 Judith Wynne 20 

506 Lady Lovelace ^ 

William H, G. Kingston’s Works. 

117 A Tale of the Shore and Ocean. 20 
133 Peter the Whaler 10 

Charles Lever’s Works. 

191 Harry Lorrequer 20 

212 Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dra- 
goon. First half 20 

212 Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dra- 
goon. Second half 20 

243 Tom Burke of “Ours.” First 

half 20 

243 Tom Burke of “ Ours.” Sec- 
ond half 20 

Sir E, Bulwer Lytf on’s Works. 

40 The Last Days of Pompeii 20 

83 A Strange Story 20 

90 Ernest Maltrav'ers ^ 

130 The Last of the Barons. First 

half 20 

130 The Last of the Barons. Sec- 
ond half.... 20 

162 Eugene Aram 20 


164 Leila ; or, The Siege of Grenada 


TEE SEASIDE LIBRARY.— Pocket Edition. 


George Macdonald’s Works, 


282 Donal Grant 20 

325 The Portent 10 

326 Phantastes. A Faerie Romance 

for Men and Women 10 

Florence Marryat’s Works. 

i59 A Moment of Madness, and 

Other Stories 10 

183 Old Contrairy, and Other 

Stories 10 

208 Tlie Ghost of Charlotte Cray, 

and Other Stories 10 

276 Under the Lilies and Roses 10 

444 The Heart of Jane Warner 20 

449 Peeress and Player 20 

Captain Marryat’s Works. 

88 The Privateersman 20 

272 The Little Savage 10 

Helen B. Mathers’s Works. 

1 3 Eyre's Acquittal 10 

221 Cornin’ Thro’ the Rye 20 

438 Found Out 10 


Mrs, Alex. McVeigh Miller’s 
W orks. 


267 Laurel Vane; or. The Girls’ 

Conspiracy 20 

268 Lady Gay’s Pride; or. The 

Miser’s Treasure 20 

269 Tjancaster's Choice 20 

316 Sworn to Silence; or. Aline 

Rodney's Secret 20 

.Teau Middlenias’s Works, 

155 Lady Muriel’s Secret 20 

639 Silvermead 20 

Alan Mnir’s Works. 

172 “Golden Girls” 20 

346 Tumbledown Farm 10 

Miss Mn lock’s Works. 

11 John Halifax, Gentleman 20 

245 Miss Tommy 10 

David Christie Murray’s Works. 

58 By the Gate of the Sea 10 

195 “ Tlie Way of the World ” 20 

320 A Bit of Human Nature 10 

W. E. Norris’s Works. 

184 Thirl by Hall 20 

277 A Man of His Word 10 

;355 That Terrible Man 10 

5(X) Adrian Vidal 20 


Laurence Oliphaut’s Works. 

47 Altlora Peto 20 

**>7 .PiccftdU-y 10 


Mrs. Oliphant’s Works. 

45 A Little Pilgrim - 10 

177 Salem Chapel 20 

205 The Minister’s Wife W 

321 The Prodigals, and Their In- 
heritance 10 

337 Memoirs and Pesolutions of 
Adam Graeme of Mossgray, 
including some Chronicles of 

the Borough of Fendie 20 

345 Madam 20 

351 The House on the Moor 20 

357 John jjo 

370 Lticy Crofton 10 

371 Margaret Maitland 20 

■377 Magdalen Hepburn : A Story of 

the Scottish Reformation 20 

402 Lilliesleaf ; or, Passages in the 
Life of Mrs Margaret Mait- 
land of Sunnyside 20 

410 Old Lady Mary 10 

527 The Days of My Life 20 

528 At His Gates 20 

“ Onida’s ” Works. 

4 Under Two Flags 20 

9 Wanda, Countess von Szalras.. 20 

116 Moths 20 

128 Afternoon and Other Sketches. 10 

226 Friendship 20 

228 Princess Napraxine 20 

238 Pascarel 20 

239 Signa. . 20 

433 A Rainy June 10 

.Tames Payn’s Works. 

48 Thicker Than Water 20 

186 The Canon’s Ward 20 

343 The Talk of the Town 20 

Mrs. Campbell Praed’s Works. 

428 Zero: A Story of Monte-Carlo. 10 
477 Affinities 10 

Eleanor C. Price’s Works. 

173 The Foreigners 29 

331 Gerald 20 

Charles Reade’s Woi’ks. 

46 Very Hard Cash 20 

98 A Woman-Hater 20 

206 The Picture, and Jack of All 

Trades 10 

210 Readiana: Comments on Cur- 
rent Events 10 

213 A Terrible Temptation 20 

214 Put Yourself in His Place 20 

216 Foul Play 20 

231 Griffith Gaunt; or. Jealousy... 20 

232 Love and Money ; or, A Perilous 

Secret 10 

235 “It is Never Too Late to 
Mend.” A Matter-of-Fact Ro- 
mance 20 

“Rita’s” Works. 

x-fc. CV. 

446 Dame Durden...., 2? 


V 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY - ookei Edition, 


Fo W. Robinson’s Works. 

»57 Mil ly’s Hero 20 

The Mail She Cared For 20 

201 A Fah- Maid. 20 

455 Lazarus jn London 20 

W, Clark Russell’s Works. 

85 A Sea Queen 20 

109 Little Loo 20 

180 Hound the Galley Fire 10 

209 John Holdsworth, Chief Mate.. 10 
223 A Sailor’s Sweetheart 20 

Sir Walter Scott’s Works. 

28 Ivan hoe 20 

201 The Monastery 20 

.'202 TJie Abbot. (Sequel to “The 

Monastery ’’) !20 

S53 The Black Dwarf, and A Le- 
gend of Montrose 20 

362 The Bride of Lamniermoor.... 20 

363 The Surgeon’s Daughter 10 

364 Castle Dangerous 10 

391 The Heart of Mid-Lothian..... 20 

392 Peverii of the Peak 20 

393 The Pirate 20 

401 Waverley 20 

417 The Fair Maid of Perth; or, St. 

Valentine’s Day. 20 

418 St, Ronan’s Well ^ 

463 Redgauntlet. A Tale of the 

Eighteenth Century 20 

507 Chronicles of the Canongate, 
and Other Stories 10 

Hawley Smart’s Works. 

848 From Post to Finish. A Racing 

Romance 20 

367 Tie and Trick 20 

550 Struck Down 10 


Frank E. Smedley’s AVorks. 

533 Frank Fairlegh; or. Scenes 
from the Life of a Private 

Pupil 20 

562 Lewis Arundel; or, The Rail- 
road of Life 20 


Eugene Sue’s Works. 

270 The Wandering Jew. Parti... 20 

270 Tlie Wandering Jew. Part II. . 20 

271 The Mysteries of Paris. Part I. 20 
271 The Mysteries of Paris. Part II. 

William M. Thackeray’s Works. 


27 Vanity Fair 20 

165 The History of Henry Esmond. ^ 

484 The Newcomes. Parti 20 

464 The Newcomes. Part II ^ 

531 The Prime Minister (1st half).. ^ 
581 The Prime Minister (2d half).. 20 

Annie Thomas’s AVorks. 

141 She Loved Him! 10 


20 


Anthony Trollope’s Works. 

32 The Land Leaguers 20 

93 Anthony Trollope’s Autobiog- 
raphy 

147 Rachel Ray 

200 An Old Man’s Love 

Jules Verne’s Works. 

87 Dick Sand; or, A Captain al 

Fifteen 

100 20.0(X) Leagues Under the Seas. 

368 The Southern Star ; or, the Dia- 
mond Land. 

395 The Archipelago on Fire 

E. B. Walford’s Works. 

241 The Baby’s Grandmother 

256 Mr. Smith : A Part of His Life. 

258 Cousins 

F. Warden’s AVorks. 

192 At the AVorld’s Mercy 

248 The House on the Marsh 

286 Deldee; or. The Iron Hand.... 

482 A Vagrant Wife 

556 A Prince of Darkness 

G. J. Whyte-Melville’s Works 

409 Roy’s Wife 

451 Market Harborough, and Inside 
the Bar 

Mrs. Henry Wood’s Works. 

8 East Lynne 

255 The Mystery 

277 The Surgeon’s Daughters 

508 The Unholy Wish 

513 Helen Whitne3’’s Wedding, and 


Other Tales 10 

514 The Mystery of Jessy Page, and 

Other Tales 10 

Charlotte M. Yonge’s AA’orks. 

247 The Armourer's Prentices 10 

275 The Three Brides 10 

535 Henrietta’s Wish. ATale 10 

Miscellaneous. 

53 The Story of Ida. Francesca. . 10 
71 A Struggle for Fame. Mrs. J. 

H. Riddell 20 

61 Charlotte Temple. Mrs. Row- 

son 10 

99 Barbara’s History. Amelia B. 

Edwards 20 

103 Rose Fleming. Dora Russell.. 10 
105 A Noble Wife. John Saunders 20 

111 The Little School-master Mark. 

J. H. Shorthouse. 10 

112 The Waters of Marah. John 

Hill 20 

113 Mrs. Carr's Companion. M. G. 

Wightwick 10 

114 Some of Our Girls. Mrs. C. J 

Eiloart 20 

115 Diamond Cut Diamond. T. 

Adolphus Trollope 10 

120 Tom Brown’s School Days at 
Rugby, Thomas H’Jghes.... 80 




Tim SEASIDE LIBRABT.— Pocket Edition. 


Miscellaucous — Contiiiucd* 


Maid of Athens. Justin Mc- 

Cartliy 20 

lone Stewart. Mrs. E. Lynn 

Linton 20 

ii7 Adrian Bripclit. Mrs. Caddy 30 

319 The Captain’s Daughter. From 

the Russian of Pushkin 10 

For Himself Alone. T. W. 

Speight 10 

IJI The Ducie Diamonds. .C. Blath- 

erwick 10 

1J6 “For a Dream’s Sake.” Mrs. 

Herbert Martin 20 

)u58 The Starling. Norman Mac- 

leod, D.D 10 

IJO Her Gentle Deeds. Sarah Tyt- 

ler 10 

IJl The Lady of Lyons. Founded 
on tlie Play of that title by 
Lord Lytton 10 

lo3 Winifred Power. Joyce Dar- 
rell 20 

IfO A Great Treason. Mary Hop- 

pus.., 30 

1/4 Under a Ban. Mrs. Lodge 20 

176 An April Day. Philippa Prit- 

tieJephson 10 

1/8 More Leaves from the Journal 
of a Life in the Highlands. 

Queen Victoria 10 

l-f9 Little Make-Believe. B. L. Far- 

jeon 10 

V32 The Millionaire 20 

185 Dita. Lady Margaret Majendie 10 
187 The Midnight Sun. Fredrika 

Bremer 10 

1J8 A Hu.sband’s Story 10 

203 John Bull and His Island. Max 

O’Rell 10 

218 Agnes Sorel. G. P. R. James.. 20 

219 Lady Clare : or, The Master of 

the Forges. From French of 

Georges Ohnet 10 

>42 The Two Orphans. D’Ennery. 10 
253 The Amazon, Carl Vosniaer. . 10 
257 Beyond Recall. Adeline Ser- 
geant 10 

236 The Water-Babies. Rev. Chas. 

Kingsley 10 

2'/3 Love and Mirage; or, The Wait- 
ing on an Island. M. Beth- 

am-Ed wards 10 

M4 Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse, 
Princess of Great Britain and 
Ireland. Biographical Sketch 

and Letters 10 

i&79 Little Goldie: A Story of Wom- 
an’s Love. Mrs. Suntner Hay- 
den 20 

%85 The Gambler's Wife 20 

289 John Bull’s Neighbor in Her 
True Light. A “ Brutal Sax- 
on ” 10 

298 Mitchelhurst Place. Margaret 

Veley 10 

Wl Two Years Befoi-e tlie Mast. R. 

H. Dana, Jr 20 


313 The Lover’s Creed. Mrs. Cash- 

el Hoey. 2C 

314 Peril. Jessie Fothergill 2C 

322 A Womaii’s Love-Story IC 

323 A Willful Maid 2C 

327 Raymond's Atonement. E. 

Werner 2( 

329 The Polish Jew. (Translated 

from the French by (jaroline 
A. Merighi.) Erckmann Chat- 
rian i; 

330 May Blossom ; or. Between Two 

Loves. Margaret Lee 20 

334 A Marriage of Convenience. 

Harriett Jay .10. 

3.35 The White Witch 20 

336 Philistia. Cecil Power ^ 

338 The Family Difficulty. Sarah 
Doudney 10 

340 Under Which King? Compton 

Reade 20 

341 Madolin Rivers; or. The Little 

Beauty of Red Oak Seminary. 

Laura Jean Libbey 20 

347 As Avon Flows. Henry Scott 

Vince 20 

350 Diana of the Crossways. George 

Meredith lO . 

352 At Any Cost. Edward Garrett. 10 

354 The Lottery of Life, A Story 

of New York Twenty Years 
Ago. John Brougham 20 

355 The Princess Dago mar of Po- 

land. Heinrich Felbermann. 10 

356 A Good Hater. Frederick Boyle 20 
365 George Christy; or. The For- 
tunes of a Minstrel. Tony 


Pastor 20 

366 The Mysterious Hunter; or, 
The Man of Death. Capt. L. 

C. Carleton 20 

369 Miss Bretherton, Mrs. Hum- 
phry Ward 10 

374 The Dead Man’s Secret. Dr. 

Jupiter Paeon 20 

376 The Crime of Christmas Day. 
The author of "My Ducats 
and My Daughter” 1C‘ 

381 The Red Cardinal. Frances 

Elliot 10 

382 Three Sisters. Elsa D’Esterre- 

Keeling IG 

383 Introduced to Society, Hamil- 

ton Aid 6 10 

387 The Secret of the Cliffs. Char- 
lotte French 2(L 

389 Ichabod. A Portrait. Bertha ' 

Thomas 10 

399 Miss Brown. Vernon Lee 20 

403 An English Squire. C. R. Cole- 
ridge 20 

405 M,y Friends and I. Edited by 

Julian Sturgis 10 

406 The Merchant’s Clerk. Samuel 

Warren 1C 

407 TylneyHall, Thomas Hood. . . 20 
4^ Venus’s Doves. Ida Ashworth 

Taylor 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY. —PocM Edition. 


Miscellaneous— Continued. 


429 Boulderstone ; or, New Men and 

Old Populations. William 
Siine 10 

430 A Bitter Reckoning'. Author 

of “By Crooked Paths . 10 

432 The Witch’s Head. H. Rider 

Haggard 20 

435 Kl.vtia: A Story of Heidelberg 

Castle. George Taylor 20 

486 Stella. Fanny Lewald 20 

441 A Sea Change. Flora L. Shaw. 20 

442 Ranthorpe. George Henry 

Lewes 20 

443 The Bachelor of the Albany... 10 
450 Godfrey Helstone Georgiana 

M. Craik 20 

452 In the West Countrie. May 
Crommelin 20 

467 The Russians at the* Gates of 

Herat. Charles Marvin 10 

458 A Week of Passion ; or, The 
Dilemma of Mr. George Bar- 
ton the Younger. Edward 

Jenkins 20 

462 Alice’s Adventures in Wonder- 

Innd. Lewis Carrol 

■'Vith forty-two illustrations 
by John Tenniel 20 

468 The Fortunes, Good and Bad, 

of a Sewing-Girl. Charlotte 

M. Stanley 10 

473 A Lost Son. Mary Linskill.... 10 


474 Serapis. An Historical Novel. 

George Ebers 20 

479 Louisa. Katharine S. Macquoid 20 

483 Betwixt My Love and Me 10 

485 Tinted Vapours. J. Maclaren 
Cobban 10 

491 Society in London. A Foreign 

Resident 10 

492 Mignon ; or. Booties’ Baby. Il- 

lustrated. J. S. Winter 10 

493 Colonel Euderby’s Wife. Lucas 

Malet 20 

601 Mr. Butler’s Ward. F. Mabel 

Robinson 20 

510 A Mad Love. Author of “ Lover 

and Lord’’ 10 

512 The Waters of Hercules :!0 

504 Curly: An Actor’s Story. John 

Coleman 10 

505 The Society of Loudon. Count 

Paul Vasili 10 

509 Nell Haffenden. Tighe Hopkins 20 

518 The Hidden Sin 20 

519 James Gordon’s Wife. 20 

526 Madame De Presnel. E. Fran- 
ces Poynter 20 

532 Arden Court. Barbara Graham 20 

534 Jack. Alphonse Daudet 21' 

536 Dissolving Views. By Mrs. An- 
drew Lang 10 

540 At a High Price. E. Werner.. 20 

545 Vida’s Story. By the author of 

“ Guiity Without Crime ’’ 10 

546 Mrs. Keith’s Crime. A Novel . . 10 


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50c 

50c 

50c 


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60c 

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LATEST ISSUES. 


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531 The Prime Minister. By An- 
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531 The Prime Minister. By Au- 

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532 Arden Court. Barbara Graham. 20 

533 Hazel Kirke. By Mai'ie Walsh. 20 


53-1 Jack. By Alphonse Daudet.. 20 
535 Henrietta’s Wish. A Tale. By 

Charlotte M. Yougre 10 

53(5 Dissolving? Views. By Mrs. An- 
drew Lang 10 

r.'ir Piccadilly. Laurence Oliphant 10 
DHS A Fair Country Maid. By E. 

Fairfax Byrrne 20 

539 Silvermead. Jean Middlemas. 20 

540 At a High Price. E. Werner. . . 20 

541 “As It Fell Upon a Day.” By 

“Tlie Duchess,” and Uncle 
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542 Fenton’s Quest. By Miss M. E. 

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543 A Family Affair. Hugh Con- 

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544 Cut by the County; or, Grace 

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545 Vida’s Story. By the author of 

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546 Mrs. Keith’s Crime. A Novel.. 10 

547 A Cocmette's Conquest. By Basil 20 

548 The Fatal Marriage, and The 

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549 Dudley Carleon ; or. The Broth- 

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E. Braddon 10 

5.50 Struck Down. Hawley Smart. . 10 
.551 Barbara Heathcote’s Trial. By 

Rosa Nouchette Carey 20 

552 Hostages to Fortune. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

553 Birds of Prey. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon.. 20 

554 Charlotte’s Inheritance. By 

Miss AI. E. Braddon 20 

555 Cara Roma. By Miss Grant 20 

5.56 A Prince of Darkness. By F. 

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E. Braddon 20 

5.58 Poyerry Corner. By G. Manville 

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559 Taken at the Flood. By Miss 
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562 Lewis Arundel; or, The Rail- 

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564 At Bay. By Mrs. Alexander... 10 

565 NoAIedium. By Annie Tliomas. 10 

566 The Royal Highlanders ; or. The 

Black AYatch in Egypt. By 
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568 The Perpetual Curate. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

569 Harry Muir. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

571 Paul Crew’s Story. By Alice 

Comyns Carr 10 

572 Healey. By Jessie Fotbergill.. 20 

573 Love’s Harvest. B. L. Farjeou 20 

575 The Finger of Fate. By Cap- 

tain Mayne Reid 20 

576 Her Martyrdom. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dot'a 
Thorne” 20 

577 In Peril and Privation. By 

James Pay n 10 

578 Mathias Sandorf. By Jules 

Verne. Part I. {Illustrated).. 10 
.579 The Flower of Doom, and Other 
Stories. By M. Betiiani-Ed- 

wards 10 

.581 The Betrothed. (I Proniessi 
Sposi.) By Allessaudro Man- 
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582 Lucia, Hugh and Another. By 

Mrs. J. H. Needell 20 

583 Victory Deane. Cecil Griffith.. 20 

584 Mixed Motives 10 

585 A Drawn Game. By Basil 20 

586 “For Percival.” By Margaret 

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587 The Parson o’ Dumford. By G. 

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688 Cherry. By the author of “A 

Great Mistake ” 10 

589 The Luck of the Darrells. By 

James Payu 20 

590 The Courting of Mary Smith. 

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The Best and Most Economical Methods ol Cooking: Meats, Fish, 
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Miss Corson is the best American writer on cooking. All of her recipoe 
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MUNRO’S PUBLICATIONS. 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY 

ORDINARY EDITION. 


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The following: works contained in The Seaside Library, Ordinary Edition, 
are for sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address, postage free, 
on receipt of the price, by the publisher. Parties ordering by mail will please 
order by numbers. 


MRS. ALEXANDER’S WORKS. 

30 Her Dearest Foe 20 

The Wooing O’t 20 

46 The Heritage of Langdale 20^ 

370 Ralph Wilton’s Weird 10 

400 Which Shall it Be? 20 

532 Maid, Wife, or Widow 10 

1231 The Freres ' 20 

1259 Valerie’s Fate.. 10 

1 391 Look Before You Leap 20 

1502 The Australian Aunt 10 

1595 The Admiral’s Ward 20 

1721 The Executor 20 

1934 Mrs. Vereker’s Courier Maid 10 

WILLIAM BLACK’S WORKS. 

18 A Pringess of Thule 20 

28 A Daughter of Heth 10 

47 In Silk Attire 10 

48 The Strange Adventures of a Phaeton 10 

51 Kilmeny. 10 


THE SEASIDE LIBRART. — Ordinary Edition. 


68 The Monarch of Mincing Lane 10 

79 Madcap Violet (small type) 10 

604 Madcap Violet (large type) 20 

242 The Three Feathers 10 

890 The Marriage of Moira Fergus, and The Maid of Killeena. 10 

417 Macleod of Dare 20 

451 Lady Silverdale’s Sweetheart 10 

568 Green Pastures and Piccadilly 10 

816 White Wings: A Yachting Romance 10 

826 Oliver Goldsmith 10 

950 Sunrise: A Story of These Times 20 

1025 The Pupil of Aurelius 10 

1032 That Beautiful Wretch 10 

1161 The Four MacNicols 10 

1264 Mr. Pisistratus Brown, M.P., in the Highlands 10 

1429 An Adventure in Thule. A Story for Young People 10 

1556 Shandon Bells 20 

1683 Yolande 20 

1893 Judith Shakespeare: Her Love Affairs and other Advent- 
ures 20 

MISS M. E. BRA.DDON’S WORKS. 

26 Aurora Floyd , . . . 20 

69 To the Bitter End 20 

89 The Lovels of Arden 20 

95 Dead Men’s Shoes , 20 

109 Eleanor’s Victory _ 20 

114 Darrell Markham 10 

140 The Lady Lisle 10 

171 Hostages to Fortune 20 

190 Henry Dunbar 20 

215 Birds of Prey 20 

235 An Open Verdict 20 

251 Lady Audley’s Secret 20 

254 The Octoroon 10 

260 Charlotte’s Inheritance. .. 20 

287 Leighton Grange 10 

295 Lost for Love 20 

322 Dead-Sea Fruit 20 

459 The Doctor’s Wife 2Ql, 

469 Rupert Godwin 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY. — Ordinary Edition. 


481 Vixen 20 

482 The Cloven Foot 20 

500 Joshua Haggard’s Daughter 20 

519 Weavers and Weft 10 

525 Sir Jasper’s Tenant 20 

539 A Strange World 20 

550 Feuton’s Quest 20 

562 John Marchmont’s Legacy 20 

572 The Lady’s Mile 20 

579 Strangers and Pilgrims 20 

581 Only a Woman (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddon) 20 

619 Taken at the Flood 20 

641 Only a Clod 20 

649 Publicans and Sinners 20 

656 George Caulfield’s Journey 10 

665 The Shadow in the Corner 10 

666 Bound to John Company; or, Robert Ainsleigh 20 

701 Barbara; or, Splendid Misery ^ 20 

705 Put to the Test (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddon) 20 

734 Diavola; or. Nobody’s Daughter. Part 1 20 

734 Diavola; or, Nobody’s Daughter. Part II 20 

811 Dudley Carleon 10 

828 The Fatal Marriage 10 

837 Just as I Am; or, A Living Lie 20 

942 Asphodel 20 

1154 The Mistletoe Bough 20 

1265 Mount Royal 30 

1469 Flower and Weed 10 

1553 The Golden Calf 20 

1638 A Hasty Marriage (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddon) 20 

1715 Phantom Fortune 20 

1736 Under the Red Flag 10 

1877 An Ishmaelite 20 

1915 The i^listletoe Bough. Christmas, 1884 (Edited by Miss 

M. E. Braddon) 20 

CHARLOTTE, EMILY, AND ANNE BRONTE’S WORKS. 

3 Jane Eyre (in small type) 10 

396 Jane Eyre (in bold, handsome type) 20 

162 Shirley 20 

.311 The Professor. 10 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.— Ordinary Edition, 


329 Wuthering Heights 10 

438 Villette 20 

967 The Tenant of Wildfell Hall 20 

1098 Agnes Grey 20 

LUCY RANDALL COMFORT’S WORKS. 

495 Claire’s Love-Life 10 

552 Love at Saratoga 20 

672 Eve, The Factory Girl 20 

716 Black Bell 20 

854 Corisande 20 

907 Three Sewing Girls 20 

1019 His First Love 20 

1133 Nina; or, The Mystery of Love 20 

1192 Vendetta; or, The Southern Heiress 20 

1254 Wild and Wilful 20 

1583 Elfrida; or, A Young Girl’s Love-Story 20 

1709 Love and Jealousy (illustrated) 20 

1810 Married for Money (illustrated) 20 

1829 Only Mattie Garland 20 

1830 Lottie and Victorine; or, Working their Own Way 20 

1834 Jewel, the Heiress. A Girl’s Love Story 20 

1861 Love at Long Branch ; or, Inez Merivale’s Fortunes 20 

WILKIE COLLINS’ WORKS. 

10 The Woman in White 20 

14 The Dead Secret 20 

22 Mari and Wife 20 

32 The Queen of Hearts 20 

38 Antonina 20 

42 Hide-and-Seek. . 20 

76 The New Magdalen 10 

94 The Law and The Lady 20 

180 Armadale 20 

191 My Lady’s Money 10 

225 The Two Destinies 10 

250 No Name 20 

286 After Dark 10 

409 The Haunted Hotel 10 

433 A Shocking Story 10 

487 A Rogue’s Life 10 


^THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.— Ordinary Edition. 

^ 

551 The Yellow Mask IQ 

583 Fallen Leaves 20 

654 Poor Miss Finch ; 20 

675 The Moonstone 20 

696 Jezebel’s Daughter 20 

713 The Captain’s Last Love 10 

721 Basil 20 

745 The Magic Spectacles 10 

905 Duel in Herne Wood 10 

928 Who Killed Zcbedee? 10 

971 The Frozen Deep 10 

990 The Black Robe... 20 

1164 Your !Money or Your Life 10 

1544 Heart and Science. A Story of the Present Time 20 

1770 Love’s Random Shot 10 

1856 I Say No” 20 

J. FENIMORE COOPER’S WORKS. 

222 Last of the Mohicans 20 

224 The Deerslayer 20 

226 The Pathfinder 20 

229 The Pioneers 20 

231 The Prairie 20 

233 The Pilot 20 

585 The Water- Witch 20 

590 The Two Admirals 20 

615 The Red Rover 20 

761 Wing-and-Wing 20 

940 The Spy. 20 

1066 The Wyandotte 20 

1257 Afloat and Ashore 20 

1262 Miles Wallingford (Sequel to “Afloat and Ashore”) 20 

1569 The Headsman; or, The Abbaye des Yignerons 2b 

1605 The Monikins 20 

1661 The Heidenmauer; or. The Benedictines. A Legend of 

the Rhine 20 

1691 The Crater; or, Vulcan’s Peak. A Tale of the Pacific 20 

CHARLES DICKENS’ WORKS. 

20 The Old Curiosity Shop 20 

100 A Tale of Two Cities 20 

102 Hard Times 


THE SEASIDE LlBRART.—Ordina/ry Edition. 


118 Great Expectations 20 

187 David Copperfield 20 

^^00 Nicholtis Nickleby 20 

213 Barnaby Budge 20 

218 Dombey and Son 20 

239 No Thoroughfare (Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins) . . 10 

247 Martin Chuzzlewit 20 

272 The Cricket on the Hearth 10 

284 Oliver Twist 20 

289 A Christmas Carol 10 

297 The Haunted Man 10 

304 Little Dorrit 20 

£08 The Chimes 10 

317 The Battle of Life 10 

325 Our Mutual Friend 20 

337 Bleak House 20 

352 Pickwick Papers 20 

359 Somebody’s Luggage 10 

367 Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings 10 

372 Lazy Tour of Two Idle Apprentices 10 

375 Mugby Junction 10 

403 Tom Tiddler’s Ground ^ 10 

498 The Uncommercial Traveler 20 

521 Master Humphrey’s Clock 10 

625 Sketches by Boz ^ 20 

- 639 Sketches of Young Couples 10 

827 The Mudfog Papers, &c 10 

860 The Mystery of Edwin Drood 20 

900 Pictures From Italy 10 

1111 A Child’s History of England 20 

1464 The Picnic Papers 20 

1558 Three Detective Anecdotes, and Other Sketches 10 

WOBKS BY THE AUTHOR OF “DORA THORNE.” 

449 More Bitter than Death 10 

618 Madolin’s Lover 20 

656 A Golden Dawn 10 

678 A Dead Heart 10 

718 Lord Lynne’s Choice; or, True Love Never Runs Smooth. 10 

746 Which Loved Him Best 20 

846 Dora Thorne 20 

921 At War with Herself 10 


b'jjjASTjjjS LiBHAilY. -^vravmry 


8Si The Sm of a Lifetime , Sat 

10i3 Lady Gwendolice^s Dream 

lOib Wife m Name Ouly .o.. . . 

i044 Like No Otner Love 10 

1060 A Woman’s War iO 

1072 Hilary’s Folly .o » . , M* 

1074 A Qiieea Amongst Women 10 

1077 A Glided Sin li 

1081 A Bridge of Love . . IC 

1085 The Fatal Lilies 1C 

1099 Wedded and Parted 10 

1107 A Bride From the bea. 10 

1110 A Rose in Thorns 10 

ills The Shadow of a Sin, .... ^ 10 

1122 Redeemed by Love , 10 

1126 The Story of a Wedding-Ring 10 

1127 Love’s Warfare 20 

1132 Repented at Leisure , 20 

1179 Fro;m Gloom toSanligut 20 

1209 Hilda 20 

1218 A Golden Heart 20 

1266 Ingledew House... . 10 

1288 A Broken Wedding-Ring 20 

1305 Love For a Day; or, Lnder the Lilaes. 10 

1357 Tne Wife’s Secret 10 

1393 Two Kisses 10 

1460 Between Two Sins. 10 

1640 The Cost of Her Love o . ...... . 2C 

1664 Romance of a Black Veil. ....... ........ c ....... c. 20 

1704 Her Mother’s Sin ...o 20 

1761 Thorns and Orange-Blossoms . 20 

1844 Fair but False, and The Heiress of Acne ................. 10 

1883 Buns'nihe and Roses 20 

1906 In Cupid’s Net ...... 10 

ALEXANDER DUMAS’ WORKS. 

144 ’The ‘fwin Lieutenants. ^ ........ 1C 

151 The Russian Gipsy ........ 10 

155 The Count of Monte- m Qm Volume ). .... 20 

160 The Black Tulip iC 

167 The Queen’s Necklace .o,.., , 20 


THE SEASIDE LlBliAliY.- Ordinary Edition. 


172 The Chevalier de Maison Rouge 20 

184 Tlie Countess de Charuy 20 

188 Nauon 10 

193 Joseph Balsamo; or, Memoirs of a Physician 20 

194 The Conspirators 10 

198 Isabel of Bavaria 10 

201 Catherine Blum 10 

223 Beau Tancrede; or, The Marriage Verdict (small type). ... 10 

997 Beau Tancrede; or. The Marriage Verdict (large type) 20 

228 The Regent’s Daughter 10 

244 The Three Guardsmen 20 

268 Tlie Forty-five Guardsmen 20 

276 Tlie Page of the Duke of Savoy 10 

278 Six Years Later; or, Taking the Bastile 20 

283 Twenty Years After 20 

298 Captain Paul 10 

306 Three Strong Men 10 

318 Ingenue 10 

331 Adventures of a Marquis. First half 20 

331 Adventures of a Marquis. Second half 20 

342 The Mohicans of Paris. Vol. I. (small type) 10 

1565 The Mohicans of Paris. Vol. I. (large type) 20 

1565 The Mohicans of Paris. Vol. II. (large type) 20 

1565 The Mohicans of Paris. Vol. III. (large type) 20 

1565 The Mohicans of Paris. Vol. IV. (large type) 20 

344 Ascanio. . . 10 

608 The Watchmaker 20 

616 The Two Dianas 20 

622 Andree de Taverney 20 

664 Vicomte de Bragelonne (1st Series) 20 

664 Vicomte de Bragelonne (2d Series) 20 

664 Vicomte de Bragelonne (3d Series) 20 

664 Vicomte de Bragelonne (4tli Sesries) 20 

688 Chicot, the Jester 20 

849 Doctor Basilius 20 

1452 Salvator: Being the continuation and conclusion of “The 

Mohicans of Paris.” Vol. 1 20 

1452 Salvator: Being the continuation and conclusion of “The 

Mohicans of Paris.” Vol. II 20 

1452 Salvator: Being the continuation and conclusion of “ The 

Mohicans of Paris.” Vol. III. 20 


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